


A Study in Black and White

by Char_ismatic



Series: A Study in Black and White [1]
Category: Jacksepticeye (Youtube), Markiplier (YouTube)
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art, Broody!Jack, College AU, Cute, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multichaptered, Photography, Please read, Romance, Roomates AU, Septiplier - Freeform, Summer, beach, idk - Freeform, internship AU, m/m - Freeform, mark is adorable and nice, no youtube, roommates au, slowburn, summery fic, youtube fandom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 36,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7688965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Char_ismatic/pseuds/Char_ismatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A three month internship working with Peter Keating, photography genius, and owner of 'Nature' Magazine?  </p><p>A dream come true.</p><p>A summer in the beautiful town of Cape Evelynn?</p><p>Also, a dream come true</p><p>Working with the enigma that is Sean, sorry, Jack McLoughlin?</p><p>Well... That's more of a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Lesson in First Moments

Mark fiddles with the trunk of the taxi. 

He’s stalling, and it’s painfully obvious. He knows it, the taxi driver knows it, and the lady walking her dog down the street knows it. But it isn't his fault! He has a reason to stall. For one thing, the idea of asking how much the taxi from the airport to Cape Evelynn will cost makes his stomach churn, but for another, he's also keenly aware that he is about to be breathing the same air as Peter Keating.

It still blows his mind that he got the internship. It was insanely competitive, and almost 1,000 people applied, but much to his surprise, Mark received the acceptance email and a letter from Peter.

The letter was generic and probably not written by Peter himself, but that didn't stop Mark from framing it and hanging it on his wall. 

And so here he was, pretending he couldn't open the trunk in the hopes of psyching himself up. 

Taking a deep breath, Mark shakes out his arms and opens the trunk with a satisfying pop. 

The trunk is relatively empty, only containing his duffel bag, his camera bag, and another bag of equipment. Careful not to jostle any of his gear, he slings the bags on his shoulder and slowly shuts the trunk. 

The cab driver is more than a little annoyed by Mark’s delay, and demands payment the moment he sets eyes on the half-Korean. Apologetic, Mark pays the man and then watches as he drives out of sight.

Turning his attention to the house, Mark takes another deep breath and raps on the door.

There's a moment of silence before the door is promptly swung open to reveal a tall girl leaning on a broom.

“Ahh, so you must be the intern. Mark right?” She offers her hand with a bright smile. “I'm Remy, Peter’s niece.” Mark smiles and shakes her hand, trying not to stare too much. 

“Is Peter here?” Mark queries, trying to look around covertly. 

“Here?” The girl, Remy, snorts. “No. Don't worry, you'll see him on Monday, if not sooner.” She pats him on the shoulder and then starts to walk. “Here I'll show you the room, Sean’s already there,”

“Sean?”

Remy ignores him and continues up the stairs until they reach the third floor. “So you guys are in the attic, there are two beds don't worry,” here she laughs. “It's pretty big, and the bathroom is down the hall to the left.” She points and then turns back to Mark. “Got it? Good. Here's your stop.” She motions to a spiral staircase. 

“Wait!” Mark calls, finally able to speak. “Who's Sean?”

Remy gives him a look. “The other intern.” 

“The other intern? I thought…”

“Oh they didn't tell you? Well I guess it was last minute. Sean was offered the spot first but he declined, so my uncle sent it to the second runner up, you, but then Sean changed his mind and accepted, and my uncle really liked him, so yeah, you're both here.” She's about to continue when a loud crash distracts her. “Shit, I gotta go. You'll be fine, let me know if you need anything!”

And within moments she is taking the stairs two at a time, soon leaving Mark alone at the bottom of the stairs. Taking yet another deep breath, Mark climbs the stairs with purpose. At the top there's a small landing with a pale pink door. The door is old and looks like it probably creaks, but Mark instantly likes the place. 

Feeling more confident, he raps once and then opens the door. 

Mark can feel his jaw drop. The room is everything an attic bedroom is supposed to be. It’s dimly lit, and Mark swears it’s perfect.

“Are you done ogling yet?” 

The voice draws Mark’s eyes away from the room and to a man lounging on a bed with his hands buried deep in his pockets. This, he supposes, is Sean. 

Sean is striking. He has pale skin, bright blue eyes, and to top it off, the top of his hair is dyed a bright green. Blinking as to not seem as if he is staring (though he is) Mark puts his bags down and approaches the other intern.

“Hey!” He says cheerfully with an extended hand. “I'm Mark, Sean right?”

Sean looks at the hand like it’s poison, and slowly trails his eyes up to meet Mark’s. “It's Jack.” He says coolly.

Mark blinks and withdraws his hand. “Uh, sorry my bad.” 

Jack rolls his eyes and leans down on the bed.

Taking the silent cue that is given, Mark  
Moves his things over to the right side of the room. Both sides have a small twin with a bedside table and a desk. However, all of the furniture is mismatched, like it was thrown together at the last second. Remembering the situation, Mark assumes that it was.

“So Peter Keating,” Mark says slowly. “We're pretty lucky to be working with him.”

Jack lets out a snort. “I doubt we’ll see much of him. We’re interning for his magazine, not him.”

Mark frowns. While Jack is probably right, Mark doesn't want to believe it. “I guess so.” 

Sneaking a glance, Mark looks over to the other man only to find that Jack’s eyes are closed. Taking the opportunity, Mark studies him until a loud bang on the door attracts both of their attention.

More banging, then: “Hey! Mark, Sean, my uncle wants to take you out to dinner, put on something nice and get your asses out here!” 

Looking down at his shorts, it's obvious the ‘put on something nice’ comment is directed towards Mark.

Jack however, who is clad in dark skinny jeans and a t-shirt, walks over to the door.

“That's not nice clothing Sean.” Remy points out upon inspecting him.

“It's Jack.” He grunts, shutting the door in her face to turn around and get changed himself.

Blinking, Mark realizes that Jack has an accent. Irish? Probably. 

Jack tosses open his duffel and rummages around. Pulling out a slightly crumpled dress shirt, he shrugs out of his own one and tosses it on the bed. Mark blinks and turns to  
his own bag pulling out jeans, a nicer shirt, and boots.

The click and creak of the door signals Jack’s exit, and Mark is left to change in peace.

***

When Mark is done getting dressed, he finds Jack and Remy waiting outside. Remy is watching Jack with an annoyed look, and Jack is doing something on his phone.

Upon seeing Mark she smiles. “There you are! Alright let's go.” She steps forward, and Mark follows, sidling up next to her, leaving Jack to trail behind with his phone. 

“So where are we eating?” Mark chirps, eager to start a conversation with Remy. 

“Well, considering Cape Evelynn isn't exactly a tourist-trap, we've only got three restaurants. There’s Sally’s but that's a diner and people usually only go there for breakfast, there’s Tim’s but that's more of a pub/bar thing,” This catches Jack’s attention. “So you’ll be eating at Rising Tide. It's really good, just don't order the clam chowder on any day other than Wednesday, it's cursed.” Remy doesn't elaborate and Mark doesn't ask. 

The rest of the short walk is pleasant, and filled with banter, small talk and silence from Jack. When they do reach the restaurant, Remy gestures for them to go in, then gives them a small wave before walking the way they came.

Mark opens his mouth to make a comment, takes one look at Jack’s face, and closes it, following the Irishman inside silently.

Jack finds the table easily enough and slides in across from Peter.

Mark is not so nonchalant. The moment he sees Peter, he can feel a stupid grin making his way onto his face. Trying to school his face into something that at least resembles composure, Mark sits down next to Jack.

Peter looks to Mark and smiles warmly. He extends his hand and Mark gives it a firm shake.

“Hello boys. I'm Peter.” He extends the hand to Jack as well. To his credit, Peter ignores the look of pure disdain from Jack and doesn't move his hand. Sensing defeat, Jack reaches for Peter’s hand and shakes it quickly before retreating back to his pockets.

The heavy scarring on his hand doesn't affect Peter at all. Mark however feels himself start a bit at the sight.

Jack falters, if only for a moment, before giving Mark the dirtiest glare he can muster, and returning to his phone. 

Gulping Mark turns to Peter.

“Thank you so much for this opportunity!” He gushes, beaming at his idol.

Peter laughs, not unkindly, and then smiles bback at Mark. “You're very welcome! You earned it. You're very talented.” His eyes skim over to a very disinterested Jack. “You both are.” The words are clearly addressed to Jack, but if it bothers him, he doesn't say anything. 

Mark attempts to steal the conversation back. “Thank you so much. I'm such a big fan of your work, it's what got me into photography.”

With these words the easy atmosphere returns. “Thank you! I’m sure you're going to fit right in at ‘Nature’. Speaking of, I’ll debrief you while we're here. I will not waste your talent getting coffee. I, and everyone else, am perfectly capable of making my own coffee. The goal of this internship is for you to learn about the Magazine world. I know both of you are artists, but you are two of many. Feel free to submit any and all work you like, but don't be too discouraged if it doesn't get put in. Unless said otherwise, photography is to be done in your personal time. When you are at the office, you will be photoshopping, formatting, and doing pretty much anything that's asked of you. You will be at the office by 8:30, and you will stay there until 6 o’ clock. You can take a half an hour for lunch, and other than that, any and all free time is to be spent however you like. You are both adults, so it's not my responsibility to give you a curfew and tuck you into bed at night. If you drink, that is fine. However, showing up to work drunk, is not. I'm a pretty understanding guy, so let's make this easy on everyone. Now enough of that, let's eat!”

It was going to be a good summer.


	2. A Lesson In First Days

Mark is already awake by the time his alarm goes off.

That doesn't stop his phone from chirping, however.

Not wanting to give Jack more of a reason to hate him, Mark fumbles to turn it off.

Sliding out of bed Mark tries to ignore the nerves swirling around in his stomach. Finding himself unsuccessful, he grabs his shower bag and a towel and slips out of the room as quiet as he can.

The bathroom is empty, so Mark slips in and locks the door behind him. Feeling marginally better, he turns the shower on and waits for it to heat up. The water warms quickly, and Mark undresses in silence.

The hot water is effective in soothing Mark’s nerves, and by the time he's toweled off, he's feeling more confident about the upcoming ordeal.

The door it turns out, does squeak, but before Mark can worry that he's woken Jack up, he sees the Irishman pulling on a shirt.

Jack barely glances at Mark before going back to tying his shoes.

Mark stares for a moment longer before going to his own side of the room to do the same.

***

Mark can't help but feel that the difference in their clothing choices are heavily representative of the difference in their personalities.

Mark is dressed formally, while Jack is wearing something in the grey area that exists between dressy and casual.

Looking at Jack, it seems (to Mark anyway) that the man lives in a grey area.

***

As it turns out, Jack isn't underdressed.

But Mark isn't overdressed either.

The office vibe ranges from ties to jeans, so both Mark and Jack are able to slip under the radar in regards to clothing choices.

When they are noticed however, they both receive different welcomes.

Mark is offered hands and welcomes, and to some extent Jack is as well, but most of the office seems to be intimidated by the deeply etched scowl Jack is sporting.

However, not everyone gets the hint. One unlucky bastard decides to poke the bear. Jake, Mark thinks his name is. He bends down so that he and Jack are eye level, and Jack’s blue eyes move lazily to meet Jake’s.

“Hello.” He says slowly, moving his mouth to annunciate each syllable. “My name is Jake. What's your name?” The words are dripping with sarcasm and condescension and the sneer that appears on Jack's face signals that he too has sensed them.

The expression makes Jake falter a bit, but in the end he stays the course and turns to a colleague.

“I didn't know we had an outreach program for morons!”

Jack’s glare is ice, and his smile is fire. “I find that surprising since that's the only reason I can find that you’d be here.”

Jake turns around to glare at Jack, but his stare is nowhere near as chilling.

“Oh look! It's Peter, let's go find out what we're doing today!” Mark chirps with faux excitement as he drags Jack away. To his credit Jack doesn't fight it, and allows himself to be planted in front of Peter.

“Good morning boys!” He chirps, giving them both a wave. “Here are your lists for the day. Starting tomorrow they'll be posted on the board in the kitchen.” When Mark nods Peter claps his hands once and continues. “Alright! Let's get ‘er done!”

And with that, Peter disappears into his office, and Mark starts to browse the list. For the most part they'll be sorting through reader submissions. They're each told to choose one, edit it how they see fit, and leave it in the bin by Peter’s door.

***

Sorting through the submissions is soul killing no matter how positive Mark tries to be. Luckily, Mark manages to choose one around noon, and decides to take his lunch.

He doesn't know what Jack is doing, but he knows it's not the submissions because he saw Jack scroll randomly and pick the first one he saw. Whatever it is that's earned Jack’s heavy gaze and rapt attention has something to do with Jake.

Mark doesn't stay long enough to find out.

***

Mark returns from lunch around the same time that Jake does.

Jack shows no signs of having left other than the fact that he has started touching up the picture he selected.

Just as Mark’s opened the picture in Photoshop, there's a loud moan coming from Jake’s desk. Mark can feel his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he swivels to decipher the meaning of the sound.

Jake is clearly flustered as he presses buttons on his laptop at random, each button resulting in the same sound. People are giggling, and Mark can't help but grin as well. When he turns to see what Jack thinks, he finds the Irishman looking at his own computer with a satisfied smirk.

It clicks, and Mark is embarrassed that he didn't catch it sooner.

Feeling Mark’s gaze, Jack looks up to meet Mark’s stare.

In the moment of the eye contact, Mark offers a lopsided grin. Jack looks surprised at the gesture before furrowing his eyebrows and returning to his laptop.

Blinking, Mark shakes off the weird feeling the interaction gave him, and turns to his own work.

***

Finishing up around five, Mark is pleased with the work he submits to Peter. Unsure of how to spend the remaining hour, Mark leans over to see what Jack is doing.

It turns out Jack has spent the last hour or so playing Agar.io.

Mark looks around the office before doing the same. Jack looks over at Mark’s screen and gives Mark a weird look before focusing on his game, and ignoring Mark completely.

***

Much to Mark’s surprise, Jack waits for him at the door. Unsure of how to react, he follows Jack out the door in silence. After a minute or two of cautious silence, Mark tentatively starts to speak. Jack doesn't respond, but he doesn't look like he's bothered by it either, so Mark continues. He talks about everything and anything, and doesn't stop until they're in the kitchen. Jack rummages through the fridge while Mark rambles on.

The fact that Jack’s hand remains buried deep in his pocket during the whole process of heating himself something to eat is very obvious to Mark.

And he tries not to stare, he really really does. In fact he does everything in his power to avoid staring. The little staring he does do manages to go unnoticed, because as soon as they sit down to eat, Jack’s hand makes an appearance.

He brings it out of his pocket in a way that would have gone unnoticed if not for Mark’s watchful eye.

The hand is worse than Mark remembers. It's covered in scars, and the fingers have obviously been reattached to the best of the doctor’s ability, but it's clear that whatever happened, completely shredded Jack’s hand. He can't even grip his fork properly.

Mark hadn’t realized that he'd stopped talking, but his stare is made painfully obvious by the new silence. What had he even been talking about? He thinks computers but he can't remember. The only thing on his mind is the image of Jack’s hand, and the new scowl Jack’s giving Mark. Jack finishes his meal one-handed and only looks up at Mark to give him a death glare before leaving.

Mark feels like shit, he really does, but he has a sinking suspicion that an apology, while genuine, will not be received well, and because of that, doesn't offer one.

However, the guilt he feels doesn't even compare to the heavy silence in their room.

Afraid that it might suffocate him, Mark ignores the fact that it’s not even 8:30, and goes to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the short chapter, I'm going to try to keep them all about 1,500 words from  
> now on. I know that's still pretty short, but there's going to be at least 27 chapters including an epilogue so hopefully you can forgive me. :) Anyway, Thanks for reading, it means a lot!! <3


	3. A Lesson in Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love :) <3

When Mark wakes up on Tuesday, the guilt is still heavy in his stomach.

The guilt grows even heavier when he spots Jack, who is in his pajamas sitting up in bed looking at his phone.

Despite yesterday's decision to not apologize, Mark feels the 'I'm sorry' heavy on his tongue. Jack may not be the kind of person who accepts apologies, but Mark is the kind of person who offers them. And Mark is Mark, so Mark does what Mark would do.

Which is apologize.

"Hey Jack?" 

The Irishman doesn't look up from his phone, but Mark can see that he's listening, so he goes on.

"Sorry for, well yesterday and everything. I shouldn't have been staring." Mark watches Jack intently, and when Jack gives no sign that he's going to respond, he nods and slips off of his bed.

You can bring a horse to water, but you can't make it drink, right?

Right.

Even with last nights awkward events, and this morning's even more awkward ones, they walk to work together.

Mark believes that actions are louder than words, and so he takes the fact that Jack is walking with him as a sign of forgiveness.

Jack is basically a walking 'Proceed With Caution' sign. And normally Mark is an avid rule follower. He yields when the sign says yield, if the sign says 'No Right On Red', you can bet Mark won't be going right on red.

But with Jack, his normal rules don't seem to apply, and so instead of giving the other intern time to open up on his own, Mark pulls a Leeroy Jenkins, and goes in guns blazing.

"So," He starts, breaking the silence for the first time since the apology. "Where are you from? Ireland, obviously, but where in Ireland, like, specifically."

Jack raises an eyebrow at Mark, and gives him a mild glare through the corner of his eye. 

This is a stop sign if Mark's ever seen one, but instead of pressing on the brakes, he presses harder on the gas pedal.

"What about your family. What are they like?"

This query earns Mark a full blown scowl-and-glare combination that leaves Mark silent for the rest of the short walk to the office building.

The moment Jack opens the door, he darts off, probably trying to avoid Mark and his incessant questioning.

Mark supposes this is fair, and leaves Jack be while he goes to collect his list for the day. 

The list is, luckily, very short, and Mark is only tasked with updating and cleaning the Instagram account (which is officially his job for the time being), and scrolling through the ratings from the last year to find out what seems to be the most popular.

Unfortunately, both of these tasks take longer than Mark had anticipated. For one thing, the Instagram account is a complete mess with no order or theme at all, so Mark ends up having to delete everything and start fresh.

This wouldn't be so bad if there weren't over 1,000 posts.

However, lunch marks a definite bright spot when Mark sees that Jack has taken over the Twitter account, and has taken some liberties with it.

For one thing, all of the old tweets have been deleted, which as someone who has followed the account for years Mark can vouch for as being a good thing. 

But for another, the latest posts (which are all user submissions) have great captions by Jack that make Mark grin.

Seeing that Jack has gotten up to take lunch, Mark gets up as well and follows him. Jack barely glances at him before going to get a seat outside of a small café. Mark knows this isn't exactly an invitation, however, he also recognizes that he hasn't been sent away either, so he sits.

They sit in silence for as long as Mark can manage before he begins to make small talk. Jack doesn't say anything, but he seems to be listening to Mark, so Mark takes a risk and asks another question.

Needless to say, he is rewarded with a scowl as Jack gets up, throws away his lunch and leaves Mark alone at the table.

When Mark returns to his desk, Jack is wearing headphones and is scrolling through a bunch of photos, which Mark assumes are all tagged with #NatureMagazine. Mark is slightly envious, as the Instagram page doesn't require nearly as much attention, and leaves Mark plenty of time to translate the raw data into something that Peter can actually use. 

And plenty of time it takes, as by the time Mark finishes, it's time to clock out. 

He's surprised to see that even after today, Jack is still waiting for the door by him. Jack doesn't wait long, though. The moment he sees Mark he turns and exits, leaving Mark scrambling to catch up.

For once, Mark decides to suppress his burning curiosity about Jack, and keeps the conversation strictly casual.

It's one-sided, and Jack looks wary the whole time, but it's not horrible, and Mark actually enjoys himself. 

They continue the conversation as they trudge up the stairs, and even into their shared room.

The moment the pink door shuts, Jack  
turns to Mark, practically daring him to ask a question. Mark takes the bait. 

“Why did you dye your hair?”

Jack gives him a severe glare before sitting on his bed. 

"C'mon," Mark begs. "At least tell me what your favorite color is."

Jack rubs his temples and sits up to look at Mark. 

"Alright Mark, it's my turn to ask you a question. What's the most exciting thing you've ever done."

Mark thinks, and responds slowly. "Well, this internship, probably."

Jack nods. "See that, that is lame. And a little bit sad. So here's the deal Markimoo, since you have so many pressing questions, I'm going to give you a chance to ask them. However, you're gonna have to earn the answer." Jack is grinning in a way that tells Mark he probably shouldn't accept this deal. "And to earn it, you're going to be doing dares of my choice. You ask me a question, I come up with an appropriate dare, you do said dare, I answer your question. I think it's simple enough."

Mark is hesitant, because just as Jack is broody and mysterious, Mark is careful and analytical. Millions of possible scenarios run through his head, some good, some bad. 

"How do I know you won't lie, or just not answer." Mark asks, looking Jack in the eye.

Jack shrugs, and meets Mark dead in the eye. "I guess you're just gonna have to trust me."

"Okay." Mark swallows, and nods. "Deal."

"So. I'm assuming you've got your first question lined up." Jack responds from his spot on the bed.

Mark doesn't, actually, but he doesn't want to wait until he's chickened out, so he repeats his question from earlier.

"Why did you dye your hair?"

Jack nods, accepting the question. "I'll have your dare ready for Friday."

And with that, Jack puts on his headphones, and Mark is left to worry about it for the remainder of the week.

On Wednesday, he regrets making this deal completely. All of the horrible things Jack could make him do play in his mind, and Mark is sure he blanches every time he sees Jack.

On Thursday, he's convinced himself that this is a good idea. Jack won't make him do anything too bad, and if it's out of Mark's comfort zone, he can just bail!

By Friday Mark has absolutely no idea what to think or feel about the possible deal with a devil that he's made.

And because of this, the walk home with Jack is uncharacteristically quiet.

Jack's not a talker, and with Mark so absorbed in his thoughts, it's silent. 

Jack is leading, and Mark is only  
Paying enough attention to turn and stop when Jack does. So when they don't end up at the apartment, Mark is shocked.

Mark blinks a few times at the building in front of them before it clicks that this, is his dare.

Seeing the hair salon, Mark exhales and turns to Jack, who is smirking at Mark's relieved face.

"Your dare, if you choose to accept, is to dye your hair." Jack motions at his own head, before motioning inside and opening the door.

Mark nods and follows Jack inside.

There's a surprising amount of choices, and Mark is actually having trouble choosing between pink, blue, and red. 

The hairdresser, Adam, tells him that pink fades out to a peachy color pretty quickly, and so Mark narrows it down to Blue and Red.

After looking at all of the swatches of red and blue dyes they have, Mark decides to go with a bright red.

Jack sits in a chair in the waiting area, gives Mark a wicked grin, and then goes onto his phone.

As the bleach goes in Mark has second thoughts.

Those second thoughts become third, and fourth, and fifths until he actually sees the result in the mirror.

Mark decides he likes it. The red is bright, and makes Mark smile every time he looks at it.

Jack is satisfied, so Mark pays the salon, and the two make their way outside.

Jack looks to Mark like he didn't expect that he'd have to actually go through with this part, before sighing and starting to walk.

"So, a few years ago there was a bit of... an accident, and that accident kind of created this..." Jack makes motions with his hands and frowns while he searches for the word. "Dark spot in my life. And it just kind of got darker, and darker, and it felt like I was living in this black and white world, until one day I passed by this salon, and I said fuck it, and I dyed my hair, and I dunno it... It helped I guess, and I've kept it dyed ever since." At this, Jack runs a hand (his left) through his hair and then shoves it in his pocket.

Mark watches Jack carefully, and when Jack catches him, it earns him a scowl, but Mark doesn't regret it.

Not any of it.


	4. A Lesson in Non-Verbal Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the love in the comments section!! <3 It made me so happy!! :) I hope you like this one, and again thank you thank you thank you!!
> 
> Looks like I'll be updating on a 3 day updating schedule, but I'll let you know if anything changes!

When Monday morning rolls around, Mark temporarily forgets that his hair is dyed partially red, and so when a groggy Mark passes by a mirror, the bright red comes as a shock. It only takes a rub of his eyes to remember the events of Friday, and those that led up to it.

And suddenly, Mark's thoughts are drowned out by a yawn, and the only thing Mark can think about is coffee.

In the kitchen, Remy is on her phone, scrolling and laughing under her breath. When she hears Mark she slides the coffee pot his way.

"Save some for your roomie, you know how he gets without it." She doesn't look up for a moment or two. "Hey, was it you who took over the Twitter? I love the captions." 

Mark wants to take credit for it, but he knows that's not fair so he shakes his head. "Nah, that's all Jack." 

"Speak of the devil." Remy mutters as a half-asleep Jack wanders into the kitchen, flipping Remy off half-heartedly.

Jack can't even bring himself to be broody without his coffee, it would seem.

After the first day, Jack is embracing the casual vibe of the office, and is sporting a blue hoodie and dark jeans.

Mark doesn't even have to look at him to know that his right hand is tucked safely away, and a pang of guilt hits Mark in the stomach.

Mark finishes his coffee just as Jack pours his.

Checking his watch, Mark's eyes widen at the time."Oh shit, we better go." 

Jack grunts and follows Mark into the foyer, coffee in hand.

"You can't leave the house with my mug!" Remy calls after him.

Jack responds by slamming the door.

"I better see that mug tonight!" 

Jack gives her the finger one more time before allowing himself to be dragged away by Mark.

Once they're in the office, Jack beelines for the kitchen, and Mark follows in his footsteps.

Mark pours himself another cup of coffee, while Jack washes Remy's mug and places it in the back of the cabinet before grabbing one up front and pouring himself some coffee as well.

At this, Mark rolls his eyes, but he's grinning, and they both know it.

Jack eyes the smile warily before pursing his lips in response and leaving Mark in the kitchen.

Mark watches him go before shaking out the weird feeling and going to retrieve his to-do list.

***

Mark finishes up early enough to follow Jack out for lunch, and the two grab their usual spot at the café.

It strikes Mark as weird that he hasn't even been here for two weeks, yet he's already fallen into a routine that involves a 'usual spot'. 

Even more odd is that Jack is still allowing Mark to sit with him. For one thing, Mark is fairly chatty, but for another, Mark hasn't exactly been the nicest to Jack. 

Jack doesn't really seem to care, though. And whether he's just tuning Mark out, or if he just has nothing to say, Mark finds he enjoy's the Irishman's silent company.

***

When the two return from lunch, Peter announces that submissions for this month's issue are now being accepted all the way through Friday. 

Despite what Peter said about not getting his photos chosen, Mark sets an alarm for crazy early on Tuesday morning so he can take some photos before work.

When his 4:30 alarm goes off, Mark is quick to turn it off. His efforts however, are fruitless as Jack's bed is already empty. 

Curious about his absence, Mark gets dressed slowly, trying to figure out where Jack could be. In his groggy state his mental answers are practically ludicrous, so Mark just pushes the question out of his mind and begins to tiptoe down the stairs and into the early morning light of dawn.

***

Mark is a little bit breathless.

He knew Cape Evelynn was beautiful, but he never knew just how vast that beauty was.

There's so many things Mark wants to capture, so many angles, and lights, and it's all just too beautiful, far too beautiful for everything to be perfectly condensed into one frame.

Mark tries anyway.

He's pretty happy with the result. 

Blinking, Mark realizes it's started to rain. Looking around to see how long the drizzle has been going on for, Mark sees the last person he'd expect.

Jack.

Curious, Mark approaches him, making sure to stay out of his shot.

"Hey." 

Jack looks up at Mark and straightens so that they're eye-level.

Jack doesn't respond to the greeting verbally, but Mark's getting better at understand what Jack's actions mean.

"Are you submitting a photo?" Mark asks, motioning to Jack's camera.

Jack looks at his camera, and then at Mark and scoffs. 

"No."

Mark's brow furrows slightly. It's not that the idea of Jack not entering is weird, it's just that it's the only thing that Mark can can think of that would bring Jack here.

"Why not?" He asks, and Jack gives him a look.

"Is that an official question?"

Mark blinks, and then shakes his head.

They stay like this for a moment longer before Jack breaks eye-contact, and leaves the beach.

Mark blinks and rubs his eyes. He bends over to dry his glasses, and when he can see, he returns to the task at hand.

***

Mark is beyond pleased with this pictures he's taken. He touches them up a bit Tuesday night, and when Wednesday rolls around, he's confident in his submission.

Jack is already in the kitchen when Mark gets there, and Remy is giving him an annoyed look. 

Upon spotting Mark Jack slides a cup his way before straightening and walking into the foyer.

"Let's go." 

Mark looks at Remy apologetically before following Jack out the door.

The walk to work passes comfortably with Mark's one-sided conversation filling in Jack's silence.

They get to the office and Jack motions for Mark's mug, and upon getting it, leaves Mark for the kitchen. 

Mark sees that his list is fuller than usual, and ends up working long into the afternoon to accommodate the extra work. 

When Mark gets up for lunch, he hesitates by Jack's desk. Jack looks up at him and to Mark's surprise, shuts his laptop and follows Mark outside for lunch.

Lunch is quieter than usual, as Mark is too tired to have an in depth conversation with himself. Jack doesn't really seem to mind, though, and so lunch is, as always, a peaceful affair.

***

It's nearly four when Mark remembers his photos. He emails them, and submits a hard copy in Peter's box.

When he's sitting back down at his desk, Jack is gone, but his computer is still powered up.

Curious, Mark leans over to look at his screen. 

The screen is filled with pictures. 

At first, Mark assumes it's just user submissions, but the picture in the top left corner is the one that Jack was taking when Mark found him. 

With only a little bit of hesitation, Mark moves to Jack's seat and clicks on the first photo. It's a picture of an empty bird's nest with a few broken eggshells at the bottom. 

The picture is very elegant, and doesn't strike Mark as something Jack would take, but as he continues to scroll through the photos, the nature shots quickly transition to pictures of people. These make Mark a little breathless. All of the shots are extremely candid, like they were taken without them knowing. More like memories, than pictures. More than that though, they're filled to the brim with emotion. Sadness, joy, anger, they're all present, and Mark finds himself mesmerized. As Mark continues to scroll, he realizes they're all in black and white. Before he can put any thought into it, there's someone next to him.

It's Jack.

"If you're done, I have some editing I'd like to do."

Mark gives the Irishman an apologetic look before scooting back into his own chair. 

Jack sits back down, and Mark watches him curiously.

Jack rolls his eyes and turns to Mark. He raises an eyebrow, in a silent way of saying 'What.'

"How did you get into photography?" Mark queries, studying Jack's face for emotion.

"That's gonna cost you Fishbach."

"How do you know my last name?"

Jack gives him a look and Mark shakes his head.

"Sorry, yeah, I'll do your dare."

Jack nods appraisingly. "Good. I already have one lined up for you." He then looks at his phone. "Remy's not home until Friday, so let's do it then, yeah?"

Jack's grin reminds Mark of a shark, and Mark feels his stomach clench looking at it.

Luckily, it's only Wednesday.


	5. A Lesson in Evading Capture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg wow thank you guys for all the lovely comments, they made my day(s)! :))) So here we are, chapter five! Some questions are answered, and some questions become more mysterious... >:) 
> 
> Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> <3

When Mark sees Jack making Shepherd's pie, he's not sure what to think.

It's Friday night, which means Mark's dare looms ahead of him. However, what this dare may be, Mark has no clue.

Mark gets no clues from Jack either, as the Irishman is as silent as ever. 

By the time Jack is sitting down to eat, Mark's convinced Jack's forgotten. So Mark sits down as well, but the moment he reaches to serve himself, Jack slaps his hand away.

Cradling his hand (more in surprise than pain) Mark gives Jack a wounded look.

"You can't eat until you've finished your dare." Jack announces, taking a bite of his food without a spare glance for Mark.

Mark nods. "And I can't do my dare until you tell me what it is."

Jack ignores the tone in Mark's voice and puts his fork down. "Since you're so eager, I want you to streak. Around the block."

Mark stares at the Irishman. 

"But everyone's out walking." Is Mark's cautious response.

Jack's expression is borderline frosty as he meets Mark's eyes. If his eyes weren't so alive, Mark would be worried. "Well that's the point."

In that moment, Remy bursts through the door of the kitchen. 

"Did I miss it?" She asks, a bit breathless and a bit frazzled.

Jack doesn't even look at her, so Mark replies with a weak 'no.'

Remy grins. "Well you can't streak with your clothes on! C'mon, take 'em off!"

Jack's eyes are still on Mark's as he speaks. "I mean you don't have to, no one's forcing you." He offers up a shrug.

Mark chews his lip. He knows this is true, Jack's goal isn't to make him uncomfortable, it's to make him live a little.

Suddenly, Mark gets up and pulls off his shirt. He drapes it over the chair he was previously occupying, and moves to take off his shoes, socks, and pants. When all that remains is his underwear, Mark can feel the flush creeping onto his face. Taking a deep breath, he approaches the door, slips off his boxers, and runs outside.

He can hear howls of laughter, but he's not sure who it came from.

Mark finds that he really doesn't care.

However athletic or unathletic Mark may be, running with his hands covering his junk is not fun. At all.

By now, Mark's made it to the first turn, and with that, approximately 25% of the way there. He makes it to 50% with only a few stares, but shortly after, Mark hears the telltale sounds of a police siren. 

Unsure who, or what it's for, Mark panics, and dives into a bush. He fluffs up the leaves in hopes of hiding himself, and holds his breath.

He waits until the footsteps of the officers are gone, and he hears the squeal of tires to come out of hiding, and even then he's cautious.

Mark doesn't have a phone on him, and Jack made him take off his watch, so Mark has no idea how much time it's taken him, but he doesn't wait around. At the best opportunity possible, he sprints the rest of the way home and slams the door.

Jack looks up at Mark and tosses him his boxers and a towel before continuing to eat.

Remy skids into the kitchen and let's out a breath when she sees Mark. 

"Thank God." She breathes, leaning against the wall in relief. "I was starting to get worried you got caught."

Mark gives a shaky 'no' as he gets dressed, and then takes a seat across from Jack. Jack slides him a plate of food, and Mark is grateful for the distraction. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and it occurs to him that he should be angry. 

So he stands up.

Jack watches him, but doesn't say anything until he's sure Remy is out of ear shot.

"Hey... I'm uh, sorry." Jack gives a brief shrug. "I didn't think about the cops."

The apology is awkward, but genuine, so Mark grunts a response before going upstairs to wash the dirt, leaves, and horrible memories of the night.

When he's clean and dressed, Jack is still at the table waiting for him, so Mark joins him. His plate is warm, so Mark figures Jack heated it up again, but Mark doesn't call him out on it.

As Mark is eating, he looks up to see Jack arguing with himself. When Jack catches him, he meets Mark's eyes.

"I am sorry. You don't have to do anymore dares."

Mark watches him, and accepts this with a nod.

There's another pregnant pause before Jack breaks it again.

"So you did your half, and now I guess it's my turn..." Jack shifts in his chair before looking at Mark again. "So, after the uh, accident, I came here. Well not here here, to America here. I went to New York. I used whatever money I had to put a deposit on a shitty apartment, and then I got a job at this café, and the pay wasn't bad, and they let me choose my hours, so yeah. That was uh, three years ago."

At the pause, Mark enters the conversation. "You came here when you were 18?"

Jack nods. "Yeah, I came here in late May I think, only a week or so after I finished, what do you call it here? High school?" At Mark's nod, Jack continues on. "Yeah, so I worked all summer, and I think in June, we started doing open mic night or some shit like that, and James," Jack pauses upon realizing Mark didn't know who that was. "The uh, manager, asked me to take photos for promotion and stuff, and I guess I was good, and yeah, I guess that's my entrance." Jack shrugs and looks to Mark with perfected apathy.

"Why do you take those pictures?"

Jack shoots him a look. "What do you mean."

"I mean... Why all the pictures of people? And emotion?"

Jack flicks him a cool look before taking a bite of his food. Mark doesn't think he's going to answer until he puts his fork down. "I like candid shots. People doing what they're doing like no ones watching, cause no one is. They're honest, and I like honesty. Emotion just seems to make its way into the frame."

Mark nods before pausing. Jack rolls his but doesn't do anything to stop the oncoming question.

"Isn't this internship only given to college students?"

Jack gives him a dirty look. "What is this, the fucking inquisition? Yeah. That doesn't exclude me, though." At this, Mark gives a silent prompt to continue.

Jack is scowling, and normally, Mark is pretty sure that Jack wouldn't be giving him free questions, but Mark is also pretty sure that Jack's making an exception because of the night's events. Mark feels slightly guilty about abusing Jack's guilt, but he pushes the feeling away.

"Well, James, thought that I had a 'talent' or whatever, and managed to get me a late application to NYU. The fucker even got my transcripts, I don't fuckin' know how." Jack's scoff and the extra swears cues Mark in that this is still a touchy subject. "Anyway, he basically, well not basically he did, applied to college for me, and for some fuckin' reason I got in, and a pretty good scholarship and financial aid. So yeah, I go to NYU."

Mark nods and takes it all in. "NYU is a good school."

Jack scoffs but doesn't disagree. Hesitantly, Jack looks at Mark. "Where do you go."

It's so abrupt that Mark has to blink a few times before he can answer. The scowl on Jack's face makes it known he's taking too much time to answer, and making it awkward, but he can't help it.

"I go to the University of Cincinnati."

Jack doesn't respond, and Mark gets the feeling Jack regrets asking, but Mark is too pleased to mind the silence.

He actually has to look down at his plate so Jack won't see the small smile creeping on his face.

He isn't sure why, but the conversation makes him feel so content. Maybe it's because for once Jack actually said something to him without being asked and for some reason the idea of having Jack as a friend makes Mark feel happy, and Mark feels like they're getting closer to friendship status. The thought pushes out all anger over the cop mishap, and puts Mark in a significantly better mood.

Despite Mark's best efforts, Jack catches the smile and gives Mark a wary look before placing his plate in the sink and disappearing.

The smile stays on his face all night.


	6. A Lesson in Drinking With Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This chapter hasn't been proof read, but I've agonized over it, and rewritten it and deleted and edited it soo many times if I look at it one more time I may shoot myself :)
> 
> So here it is, in all of its unedited glory.
> 
> Well it is edited, just not for grammar and spelling.
> 
> I'll probably fix it later.
> 
> Anyway, thank you again for all the love! Always makes me smile! :)

Mark and Jack seemed to have mutually agreed to take a break from dares for a while.

Neither of them say it, but it's strongly implied, and for this, Mark is grateful. 

Without a dare to complete, Mark finds himself going to the bar with Remy. Despite the obvious fact that Jack and Remy don't get along, Mark invites him along. When Remy sees him, she only spares him a glance before giving Mark a tame glare. 

All Mark can do is shrug apologetically.

Remy spends the entirety of the walk chit chatting with Mark, and asking him how his first three weeks have gone. Jack stands behind them a disinterested lump. Both hands in his pockets, and a scowl on his face Jack looks every bit intimidating as Mark had found him to be on the first day.

However, after three weeks, Mark can't help but feel like the two of them have at least reached an understanding. Mark feels like he's at least pulled off some of Jack's veil. He's not just a broody tempest anymore, there seems to be a reason, a story, behind his actions. He seems so much more real than he did on the first day. Part of this is from the silent lunches they've shared, but most of it Mark's taken from Jack's apology. It was so genuine that Mark believes there's something more than Jack wants him to believe. So, somehow, Mark is weaving Jack into a real person.

And with that thought in mind, the three of them enter the crowded bar.

It's bright and hazy in there, and while that might seem contradictory it's the only way to describe it. The room is only lit by a few lights, and an endless supply of Christmas lights. They're surprisingly effective in lighting the room, and offer bursts of light through the busy crowd.

Mark finds that he likes it immensely.

Jack is looking around with a guarded expression when he settles upon Mark's eyes. Blue meets brown, and a cautious smile is exchanged. Jack stares at the smile, hoping to mentally dissect it. When he can't decipher the meaning of it, his heavy gaze returns to Mark's eyes, if only for a moment. After that, Jack is turned around, leaning on the sticky wood of the bar to order himself a drink. Mark watches him with unabashed interest before Remy finds him.

Her face is flushed, and Mark realizes that she is quite attractive. He thinks she's saying something to him, but it's so loud that Mark can't figure out whatever it could be that she's saying, and just laughs in response. She grins and orders a drink before disappearing back into the crowd, leaving Mark alone in the throngs of people. 

With Remy gone, Mark searches the crowd of Jack. He spots the familiar green tuft of hair and follows it to a booth in the back corner of the room. 

When Mark slides in across from him, Jack is not quick enough to hide the surprise in his features. Or perhaps he'd let it show willingly. Mark leans forward and studies the Irishman again, trying, not for the first time, to understand him.

Jack's gaze on Mark is lazy and hooded. It conveys that Jack knows Mark's searching for answers, and he's not going to stop him. So Mark looks his fill. During this, Mark can't help but wonder if this sudden openness is willing, or if he's just too tired to do anything to stop the half-Korean. Mark would like to believe that they're close enough that Jack's opening up is 100% willing, but even he can't totally convince himself of that.

When he's done he realizes that he doesn't have a drink in his hand. He excuses himself, and returns moments later with a beer.

This time Jack looks only mildly surprised when he sits down.

The silence only lasts for a few moments before Mark leans in again.

When Mark opens his mouth, Jack leans in as well, probably in an effort to hear the words coming from the other man's mouth. 

"So I guess the focus has been on you, but if you had any questions..." Mark trails off, but the meaning is clear.

Jack laces his fingers together and rests his chin on them lazily. "What's the price?"

Mark watches him before responding. "Free of charge. Consider them on the house." 

Jack considers this before nodding. "Alright." He squints, probably trying to format how to say what he's thinking. "What's your obsession with me?" The words are a little harsh, and we're it anyone other than Jack, Mark might have been offended. He pauses to gauge Mark's reaction before continuing. "Why are you constantly trying to piece me together." He makes a frustrated motion before landing his scowling gaze upon Mark once more.

Mark chews his lip, trying to figure out how to answer. After a moment he realizes there's really only one true thing he can say.

"On our first day here, I wasn't expecting you." This draws a look from Jack. He's not smiling, but Mark thinks he might detect something in his eyes. "When Remy told me about the man who rejected Peter Keating, then begged forgiveness, and was given a second chance, I was curious. And then I met you and you just made me more curious. Sorry."

Jack doesn't respond in anyway except for staring Mark dead in the eye.

"I'm guessing you want the story behind my rejection, right?" Is Jack's eventual response. His tone is flat, but Mark trusts Jack to not do anything he doesn't want to do.

Jack rolls his eyes, but Mark can tell he doesn't mind. Part of him wonders if Jack still feels guilty about what happened last week, or is this question is just so impersonal that Jack can't be bothered to charge for it.

"Well it's a pretty short story. An application was sent in behind my back, again." Jack flicks Mark a dry look before continuing. "So when I got the email and letter from Peter, I was pissed, and I told him to fuck off." At Mark's horrified face Jack offers a devilish grin. Mark tries not to make a spectacle of the smile before motioning for Jack to continue. "And then I regretted it, but I was too stubborn to admit I was wrong. So I stayed silent. Until like, a week beforehand when I was... 'Persuaded'" Jack uses exaggerated air quotes before continuing. "To beg forgiveness. I have no fuckin' clue why he gave it to me. You'll have to hunt him down and interrogate him for that answer." After this, Jack leans back and sips his beer, and Mark knows the conversation is over.

Somehow, he finds that he doesn't mind. He feels like he's learned a lot more from the short story then Jack expected him to.

They don't stay much longer than that, and the walk home is spent in pleasant silence. 

Falling asleep with a smile on his face, the last thing Mark hears before passing out is Jack's quiet breathing.

***

The weekend is uneventful, and seems to only serve as time for Mark to formulate more questions for Jack. 

By Monday his head is bursting with things he wants to know, and Mark realizes the game is going to have to start again.

He tells this to Jack on the way to work. 

Jack, who is sipping his coffee shrugs and agrees.

They shift gears after that, and the walk is pleasant as always.

When they reach the building Jack grabs Mark's mug and Mark goes to retrieve the lists off of the notice board. Mark trades Jack his list for a mug of coffee. It's a pretty good system they have running smoothly.

Today's list is pretty boring as Mark and Jack are just restocking the supply room in the basement, but they make the most of it. 

By the time they're finished, and by they, Mark means Mark because Jack got distracted by the Twitter page and stopped helping an hour ago, it's past one in the afternoon, and Mark is chilled from the basement. 

They sit down at their usual table and Mark tries to choose a question to ask. The most pressing one is on the tip of his tongue. Why doesn't Jack try for anything? It's been nagging him since Friday, and while he desperately wants to ask it, he decides to ease back into the game with an easier question. 

"What's your family like?" Mark asks, watching Jack intently for a reaction.

Jack looks up with a bland expression and a sharply raised eyebrow. "Shit." 

Mark gives him a dry look. "That's my question."

Jack rolls his eyes, but doesn't reject Mark's question.

"Lucky for you, I've had some time to think of some dares." Jack starts, a quasi-malicious grin threatening his countenance.

Mark watches the grin warily before flicking his eyes back up to Jack. 

"I think some Karaoke is in order. Drunk karaoke, to be specific."

Mark laughs a bit in relief. The grin from Jack's face doesn't disappear. "So, we're going tonight."

"Tonight." Mark echoes. "Tonight's a Monday."

"Keen observation agent." Jack replies, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Mark gives him a look before continuing. "Okay, well why does it have to be tonight?"

"Because I'm bored," Jack replies with a shrug and a neutral expression. "And this should be interesting."

When Mark still doesn't look completely sold Jack gives him a look that tells him all he needs to know. If he wants answers, this is the only way he's gonna get them.

"Remy?" Mark queries, earning a dark look and scowl from Jack.

"What about her."

"Why do you hate Remy?"

Jack shoots him a look. "You've already asked your question." And with that, Jack tosses his coffee cup and returns inside.


	7. A Lesson in Maybes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> So it looks like I messed up the schedule a bit by posting a day late...
> 
> Oops.
> 
> To get back on track, I've posted this one a day early! 
> 
> Sorry for the mess up, and thank you very much for all the love and comments! :))

Mark finds he's more excited about the night than he expected to be, than he really should be. Tonight can logically only end in disaster. He knows he's about to humiliate himself, and probably regret it in the morning, but right now, watching Jack tie his laces, his veins are thrumming with excitement. Maybe it's because a big piece of the puzzle will be answered tonight. 

Maybe.

Maybe he's a little nervous as well.

Not as much for the singing as he is for Jack to realize Remy's tagging along. 

He may or may have not invited Remy along without mentioning it to Jack.

Maybe.

And Mark can predict that Jack will be less than thrilled about that.

When the taxi comes, and Jack sees Remy coming outside with them, the glare he shoots Mark is cold enough to fix the melting ice caps and save every single polar bear and penguin in danger.

Before Mark can defend himself or apologize, Jack opens the door and slides all the way over to the left most seat, and that's the end of that.

So Mark follows and slips into the middle seat, not wanting Jack and Remy to have more contact than necessary. Because Mark's got a pretty good build, it's a tight fit, and Mark is pressed up tightly between Jack and Remy. They're so close Mark can feel Jack's jeans pressed against his leg, and his shoulders bumping with Mark's. It's a warm kind of contact, and Mark finds he doesn't mind that much. Jack doesn't say anything about the proximity, but the look he flicks to Remy is clear he's not pleased. However, with what he's so displeased with, Mark cannot pinpoint.

Mark ignores him, and the warmth of their shoulders, and turns to talk to Remy, who is more than happy to oblige. The conversation is pleasant, and even the taxi driver gets involved. Remy asks Jack for his opinion a few times, and the silence that follows is very uncomfortable. 

Even with the lulls, it's a nice drive. After a while Remy and the driver get into an in depth conversation about movies and their sequels, so Mark turns to Jack, who is looking out the window with a deeper scowl than usual. Mark attempts conversation and Jack doesn't deny him.

It's then that Mark truly realizes how much better he knows Jack than everyone else, or at least how much closer they've become, because if he knew him that well, they wouldn't be playing this game. Jack doesn't even acknowledge Remy's existence, save the few glares he spares her, while Mark's managed to have more than one conversation with Jack. And for someone so silent and broody, Mark considers this a fairly impressive feat. 

He remembers the first day, and where they started. Silence and cold stares. To compare them to where they are now shows almost a completely new dynamic. 

Mark can't help the bit of pride that swells in his chest as he watches Jack. For once Mark feels like he's on the inside of something instead of watching from the sidelines. And it feels good. It's the warmth in your chest after a long winters day, it's the thrumming in your ears when you walk into a crowded room, it's every positive feeling molded up into one, and Mark savors it for as long as he can. But the feeling slowly dissipates as Mark gets more and more distracted by Jack's features. He had said he was stark, and Mark still thinks so. His pale skin against his dark hair and bright eyes makes him a walking contrast palette, and right now, in the taxi, Mark feels a little bit annoyed that he doesn't have his camera, because Jack looks so damn picturesque. His eyes are half-lidded with his eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he watches the trees and buildings fly past them. 

And suddenly they're making eye contact. Jack looks annoyed at first, but whatever expression Mark is making quickly turns the anger into surprise. 

Mark doesn't look away.

And he swears that when Jack looks away there's just the tiniest bit of color in his cheeks.

Almost invisible, but not quite. 

***

The club is everything Mark hopes it would be and more. It's loud in a way that isn't overwhelming and seems to make Mark feel right at home. It's noisy enough to push the car ride out of his mind completely and focus on the colored lights and loud music.

The karaoke, it would seem, hasn't started yet, so the the three push their way over to the bar. Jack quickly signs Mark up for a later slot in the karaoke before turning back to them, impassive and neutral as always. Remy studies him for a moment before shaking her head and turning to Mark.

After a moment Jack slides a tray of shots over to them. His face is neutral as he watches Mark. Mark glances at the shots warily before selecting one and holding it up for cheers. Jack's grin is that of the devil as he crashes his shot against Mark's and knocks it back. 

The drinking goes on for a while, but they switch to beer pretty quickly. They've lost Remy to some random dudes in the crowd, which Jack seems pleased about, and are watching as she does her second drunk duet. Jack is snickering, and the (albeit malicious) laughter is bells to Mark's (albeit drunken) ears. 

Before Mark can revel in the sound, his name is called to sing. Now that the actual karaoke has started, the bar has quieted down and everyone's seated at tables. Jack and Mark are almost right in front of the stage, so getting up there (even in his drunken state) is fairly easy. He accepts the microphone and selects his song. 

Suddenly, the music is blaring through the speakers and Mark is squinting to read the words on the screen. Halfway through the song he realizes he's laughing more than singing, but the audience seems to enjoy it, and cheer him on, even if it's more for there amusement than actual encouragement. Mark has o focus on the lyrics, so luckily he doesn't have to worry about the audience, or Jack, or Remy, but the one time Mark does look at Jack he's laughing, and the sight makes Mark's heart do flips that he doesn't quite understand. His brain isn't functioning well enough for him to put two and two together, and even if it were, he doubts he'd be ready to acknowledge that yet.

So he shoves the thought away and finishes the song, and gives a dramatically drunken bow and stumbles off the stage. As he approaches the table, Jack is clapping slowly and grinning maniacally. Mark gives another bow and plops himself in the chair.

Moments later Remy joins them, laughing and slapping Mark on the back.

"That was," she laughs again. "Amazing, best cover I've ever heard, nicely done Mark."

Jack flicks Remy a cold look before standing up and pushing his chair in. With the sudden noise, Mark looks up to him.

"I'll be outside when you're ready."

And with that, Jack is gone into the crowd, leaving Mark and Remy alone at the table.

Maybe he's just drunk, but he thinks Remy's giving him a weird look. 

"What?"

She squints and studies him further. "You don't want to keep your pit bull waiting."

Mark shakes his head and gets up from the table. 

It's been a strange night.


	8. A Lesson in Drunk Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! 
> 
> So, as always, thank you so much for all the love and comments!!! You know how they make me feel :)) 
> 
> Onto other things, I was wondering how I was doing regarding making this 'Slow Burn' I've tried my best but I'm still afraid it's too fast :/ 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading!! School is starting up again, but it shouldn't affect my updating schedule, and if it does, I will let you all know!! 
> 
> Thank you, and I'll shut up now :)

When Mark exits the club, he's a bit surprised at how cold it is. The wind is frigid as it nips his nose and chills him to the bone. Despite the temperature, it's a beautiful night. The sky is free of all clouds, and the stars are shining brighter than Mark's ever seen them. The moon is also full, and it's reflection over the water gives Mark even more chills.

Maybe he's drunk, but he's never seen such a beautiful night before.

Jack is, as always, not hard to spot, even in the dim lighting. The familiar tuft of green hair stands out in the moonlight. 

He's sitting on a picnic table, clutching a coffee, and glancing at the phone laden on his knee.

And for a second Mark stops and watches. 

But only for a second, and then he's moving, and sitting down next to Jack.

It's not like the taxi, there's more than enough room for them to sit apart from each other, but Mark doesn't. He sits close to Jack, closer than is necessary, closer than he'd ever dare to sit sober.

Jack doesn't move, say anything, or acknowledge Mark in anyway, but Mark knows that Jack knows that he's there.

So Mark waits, and in the silence, tries to make sense of all the thoughts and feelings and maybes that are swirling around in his mind, and he's distracted by the click of Jack's phone being turned off, and the shuffling that follows. 

And finally, Jack turns to face him. And Mark doesn't know why, but they're very close. So close that Mark can feel Jack's warm breath as the Irishman studies him. 

There's another silence, but this time, Mark doesn't dare break eye contact. 

And soon Jack speaks. 

"You're the first person to ever ask me so many questions." Is what he says. It's spoken quietly, and while still in direct eye contact with Mark.

Numbly Mark wonders if this is a good thing or a bad thing, he thinks it could go either way, so he remains silent and silently prompts Jack to elaborate. 

Jack breaks eye contact to take a sip of his coffee. When he's done, he hands it to Mark, who accepts it gratefully. The paper cup is warm against his chilled hands, and Mark takes a sip as well. It's bitter, and not how Mark takes his coffee, but he's cold, and it's warm, so he sucks it up and takes another sip.

"I grew up on a farm. My dad's, and his dad's, and his dad's and so on and so forth, whatever. I've got uh, two older brothers, and two older sisters, and we all grew up on the farm together, one big happy fuckin' family. I was never really close with my brothers, especially Conor, he's a prick. We were just so different, they liked football and roughhouseing, and I'd rather stay inside. My oldest sister is kind of a bitch so we're not really close either." He lets out a quiet laugh before continuing. "But my other sister and I were pretty close. I think we bonded over how horrible Jen was." Jack looks down to play with the strings on his hoodie. "Anyway, my brothers both got football scholarships, and we're able to go off to university. Then Jen started flipping houses with her douchey boyfriend, and Megan ran away." He pauses for a second before continuing. "She ran away with her best friend to go on some roadtrip. I hear from her sometimes." It's quiet for a moment and Mark can see Jack clenching his jaw. "My parents were always supportive. They bought my brothers jersey's and gear, gave my sister a loan for her house flipping bullshit, and even hang Meg's fucking postcards on the fridge. Yep, they're super fucking supportive." Jack's stopped again, and Mark can feel the anger seeping off of him, so he waits and gives Jack's knee a squeeze in support. Jack looks at Mark but doesn't bring it up. "Just not of me, or my interests." Jack pauses to clench his jaw, "So when it was my turn to move out I was told I got the farm, and it was my responsibility to keep it in the family. And I told them to fuck off." Jack opens his mouth to say something more, then shuts it. "That's it. The end." He motions for his coffee and Mark gives it over without complaint.

"I only have an older brother." He says finally, and Jack watches him intently. "We're pretty close I guess. We're kind of opposites though, he's got no artistic genes to speak of, and he's really mathy and analytical. But anyway, when we were little, our dad used to bring us computer games and..." Mark pauses and looks out at the water. "It was just so, like as a kid I didn't, understand it? But I was so in love, and so was my brother, and we just wasted days and days on the computer. And then, when my parents got divorced, we kind of, joined forces, if that makes sense." Mark pauses to search for words, luckily the coffee has sobered him up a bit. "And we got even closer than we already were, and we just stayed that way. Even when he went off to university, and I was at home, we stayed in touch. So when my dad died..." Mark pauses to take a deep breath, and when he turns to face Jack again, Jack is watching him closely, wearing something that could have been interest, but Mark suspects is concern. And then, hesitantly, he reaches out and squeezes Mark's right knee with his left hand, just as Mark had done for him. The gesture makes Mark smile, and some of the knot in his chest unravels a bit. "When my dad died, we rallied together again. Anyway, I'm just really lucky to have him." 

Here Jack nods and Mark feels the knot disappear almost completely. 

They both find they're happy to sit in silence for a bit. 

Countless minutes later, Jack disappears, and returns with two more coffees. Mark takes it gratefully and takes a sip.

"You know how I like my coffee?"

Jack shoots him a look. "I make your coffee in the office every morning dumbass, yes I know your coffee order." This is followed up by a roll of the eyes, but Mark knows what it means, and takes the knowledge with nothing but a small smile and a sip of his drink.

Something so simple as a coffee order, means something so much more when it comes to Jack. Mark suspects it's because Jack chooses who, and what he knows, and maybe that means Jack's chosen Mark to know. And maybe that means Jack will let Mark know him.

Eventually Remy comes to find them, and when she does, the comfortable silence dissolves so quickly Mark isn't sure it ever existed. 

Nonetheless he and Jack follow Remy to the cab, and all slide in together. 

The ride home is quiet, but Mark's thoughts are loud and take up all of his mental capacity. The night is dizzying now that Mark tries to remember it, and he decides not to try and decipher it until he's 100% sober.

So he ignores the thoughts, enjoys the warmth from Jack (and to some extent Remy) and dozes off in the taxi. 

***

Mark doesn't know what time it is, but Remy is shaking him awake, and his neck hurts like hell, and Jack is no where to be found. 

So Mark slides out of the taxi, and slumps up the stairs to their room. Without even brushing his teeth, he strips down to his shirt and boxers and flops onto bed. Face on pillow, body on mattress. 

Moments later, the door opens and Jack enters. Mark can hear him change, but he's too damn tired to stay awake for another second. So he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep, and the last thing he hears is the rustling of sheets as Jack crawls into his own bed and settles in.


	9. A Lesson in Leaps of Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The much awaited chapter nine...
> 
> I suppose I'm the only one eagerly awaiting this chapter, but I really really am because it's one of my favorite chapters in this fic! (There's around 25 I think, so it's only one, but I do love it. :) )
> 
> So yeah, chapter nine! Thank you so much for all the love! We hit 1,000 hits and I'm so happy! Thank you all!!! <3 
> 
> I'll let you read the chapter, I hope you like it, thank you, and let me know what you think!!!

Mark's curiosity is officially piqued. 

He's been curious for a while now, but at the moment, he's pretty sure he can't get anymore so.

After the karaoke, Jack is pretty much all Mark can think about, and the question is still strong on his tongue. Why doesn't Jack try for anything? What is his aversion to putting effort into, well, anything?

So when Friday rolls around, and the two are eating lunch as per usual, Mark tries to figure out how to formulate such a question. Should be just blurt it out and hope for the best?Or maybe beat around the bush? 

When Mark can bear it no longer, he blurts out the question he's been dying to ask for so long.

"Why don't you try?" 

Jack gives him a weird look. "Care to elaborate?"

"I mean like..." Mark hesitates. "Why don't you try for stuff. Why did your friend have to apply to college for you? And to this internship?"

And suddenly, Jack is grinning impishly, and Mark is confused.

"Do you trust me?"

"What?" The question sends Mark's heart beating faster.

Jack rolls his eyes. "Well you're gonna have to if you want to earn the answer to your question."

Mark is about to open his mouth to interject, but his curiosity stops him. If he rejects this dare, before even knowing what it is, he'll never get his answer.

Taking Mark's silence as a 'yes' Jack stands up and throws out his food. 

"See you after work."

And with that, Mark is left to wonder what Jack could possibly have in store for him.

***

The end of the day comes faster than Mark had expected it to. 

He's shutting down his computer when Jack approaches him.

"Are you ready?" He says, in lieu of a greeting.

"What does this dare entail?" Mark asks warily.

Jack shrugs. "Taking a risk."

Mark shakes his head, but Jack knows he's coming, and Mark knows he's coming. 

So they pack up in silence, and leave the building together.

Wherever Jack is taking him requires a stop at home. However, Mark is firmly instructed to remain outdoors, an instruction he follows with only little questioning. 

Moments later, Jack returns with a duffel bag, and Mark's stomach begins to do nervous flips.

Who knows what's in the bag. It could literally be anything. Panic starts to bubble up in Mark's stomach before he remembers how bad Jack felt about the last time cops were involved. Even with his main concern out of the way, Mark is still curious about the contacts of the bag, but when Mark asks he is given nothing but a firm glare for an answer.

So they walk in companionable silence, Mark talking, Jack listening. 

Because Jack's leading, Mark has no idea where they're going. It seems to be close enough to walk, but it's pushing the limits of that. So when Jack stops Mark doesn't stop talking at first. 

Jack motions in front of them, and it clicks that this, is what Mark will be doing. So he looks around. They're on a boardwalk of some sort, with touristy shops and restaurants all closed for the night. The street lights are on, giving the boardwalk a nice hazy glow. Turning around, he walks over to the end of the pavement and looks over at the water below. It's inky black as it slaps lazily against the concrete.

"Well this is nice." Mark says turning to Jack hesitantly. 

Jack joins him. "Mm, it's low tide. Just your luck."

"Pardon?" Mark asks, turning to look at Jack's semi-illuminated face.

"Well, low tide means lower water, which means that you'll be jumper from higher, which means a longer jump."

"Jump?" Mark repeats, looking down at the ocean below.

"Well, yeah. You asked a big question, you get a big dare."

Mark laughs a bit, in a dry, bemused way before running a hand through his hair.

"You're serious?"

Jack shrugs. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Mark looks down, and back at Jack, and back down again. He wants to bail, fight or flight is begging him to let flight take control, and forget all of this. But Mark knows that if he does back out, he forfeits the question, and while jumping might severely injure him, he knows that not having answers will, without a doubt, kill him. 

So he nods, and then does it again to gain some confidence before stepping away from the ledge and taking off his shirt. He tosses it on the ground, his shoes, socks, and pants following soon after. 

When he's standing in nothing but his boxers he walks over to the edge again and takes a few deep breaths. He tries not to look down, because every time he does, fear claws at his chest in a desperate attempt to knock some sense into him. 

It doesn't work, but it's pretty close. For minutes Mark stays rooted to the spot, debating internally about what to do. It's not even that high of a jump, he's sure that were it daytime, he would do this for fun. But it's not daytime, and this certainly isn't for fun.

Mark's about to turn around and tell Jack he can't, but before he can, Jack appears on his left and grabs Mark's hand, lacing their fingers together. Mark turns in surprise, but doesn't pull his hand away, only interested in watching Jack. Mark's eyes wander down, taking over Jack's slim frame. The Irishman is more pale than Mark remembered, but maybe it's the harsh street lights. 

Almost on cue, Jack looks up, and they lock eyes. Brown meets blue, and a silent conversation is had. 

And then, Jack looks out at the water again. "On the count of three."

Mark follows his gaze, and just as he's about to say one, Jack jumps, pulling Mark down with him.

Suddenly, Mark is falling, air passing over him before his feet, and then the rest of him, makes contact with the water.

Numbly, he realizes Jack let go of his hand, but all Mark can focus on is the tingles it left in its wake. 

Looking around, Mark hears, and then spots Jack, who is grinning and laughing. Feeling his heart lurch in a way that's becoming all too familiar, Mark begins to laugh as well, until they're both laughing for no good, sane, reason. Still grinning, Mark follows the other man over to the wharf where a ladder is built into the concrete. 

Jack climbs up first, Mark following behind, a bit breathless from the jump. When he's up on the pier again Jack tosses him a towel. They dry off, and get dressed before saying another word to each other. 

"So where in the world did you get this idea from?" Mark asks, when they're finally walking towards home.

"I take pictures here sometimes. Saw some kids jumping, seemed like a good dare." He flashes Mark a small grin, and all Mark can do is shake his head sheepishly in response. 

"How high was that?" 

"Mm, thirty feet or so at low tide." Jack responds casually. 

The statement makes Mark bark a short laugh. "Well, we made it, I guess." 

"Yep." Jack replies, popping the p and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Mark shakes his head again, and they walk in silence. 

"You good for a bit of a detour?"

Mark looks up at Jack, making eye contact. 

"Lead the way."


	10. A Lesson in Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> It's your friendly neighborhood Char_ismatic here :)  
> I just wanted to apologize for the shorter chapters that you have been getting. I usually try to keep my chapters around 1,500 words, but lately I've been giving you 1,200 word chapters... Sorry! 
> 
> That ends now!!!!
> 
> To make up for that, I give you an almost 2,000 word chapter. :)) 
> 
> Also, I know I've been warning people in the comments, but this chapter is kind of a filler because the next chapters are a bit of a rollercoaster!! 
> 
> Buckle up because after this, we are taking a BREAK from fluff.
> 
> Not a long break, but a break nonetheless....
> 
> Anyways, sorry for the long note, thank you for reading, and for all of the wonderful comments that make my day!!! Love you all, enjoy, and let me know what you think of the chapter!! 
> 
> :)) <3

Mark has no idea where they're going.

He has a pretty good feeling Jack doesn't either, but Mark trusts him to get them back home in one piece. 

Mark finds it odd how much he does trust Jack. Not that Jack has done anything to make him seem untrustworthy, but Mark's only known the guy for a little over a month. Even had it been someone completely unlike Jack who had no secrets, and was friendly Mark still doubts he would trust them all that much.

But Jack is, as always, a different story.

Which is something Mark is learning to accept. 

Very, very, slowly.

And suddenly, the silence is broken as Jack speaks. 

"It's not intentional." 

Mark looks to Jack. "Hm?"

"The not trying thing." Jack says slowly, trying to choose his words. "It's not that I don't care... It's just that." He pauses, looking frustrated, possibly with his inability to put his thoughts into words. "I hate photography as much as I love it. I like it because it, uh, well I guess it fills a hole or some shit like that if that makes any fuckin' sense." Jack lets out a huff, and Mark realizes he's embarrassed. 

"No that makes sense. I like art but I'm shit at everything but this." Mark replies, trying to give a silent show of support. 

Jack shakes his head slowly, a wry grin playing upon his lips. 

"What?" Mark queries, stopping to look at Jack's face.

"You swearing is weird." 

Mark scoffs, giving Jack a small shove. Jack rolls his eyes before giving Mark a small shove in return.

The contact creates a buzzing in Mark's ears, but he ignores it and prompts Jack to continue. 

Jack exhales with yet another roll of his eyes before continuing. "But I also hate it, because it reminds me of something I... can't do anymore." With these words spoken, Mark has to physically restrain himself from looking at Jack's hand. Luckily, he's successful, and Jack doesn't notice his strain. "So I guess it's hard to try for something you resent." 

Mark drags his eyes to Jack's face. "Yeah, that makes sense." He pauses, not sure to voice his next question. 

Jack shakes his head. "Just ask your question."

"Why didn't you apply for college though?"

"It seemed like a waste of time. Didn't think I'd get in and knew I couldn't afford."

And suddenly, it clicks. Jack isn't lazy, or apathetic (not that Mark ever thought that), he's just hesitant. He's afraid to put himself out there. It makes so much sense that Mark feels stupid for not putting it together sooner. Despite the gruff exterior, Jack too, is human, and has his own weaknesses. 

Leaving his trance, he blinks to find Jack watching him strangely.

"Welcome back." Jack says with a smirk which Mark ignores with a small laugh.

Ignoring the grin on Jack's face, Mark shakes his head and follows Jack all the way home. 

***

When Mark is finally in bed, he realizes just how fast his heart is beating. He tries to think back on the night, and traces it back to the jump. He wants to pretend his hearts sudden speed is caused by the adrenaline of the jump, but he knows better. 

Acknowledging this makes sleep no easier, and Mark only grasps it around two, or two thirty, and even at that it's restless.

And so, when Mark wakes up, he's exhausted, and more than a little bit groggy. 

Luckily, it's Saturday, and Mark doesn't have to haul ass to get to work. 

He does however have to get out of bed if he wants any coffee. 

With this thought fresh in his mind, he shoves himself out of bed and slaps his cheeks in an effort to perk up. 

A perfunctory glance around the room confirms that Jack is already awake. The empty bed is messy as always, and looks no different, but this morning it sends his heart into overdrive. 

"Shower." He mumbles to himself as he rubs his eyes. "I definitely need a shower."

Groaning to himself slightly, Mark bends over to scrounge up some clean clothes and a towel before traipsing over to the bathroom. 

It's unoccupied, so Mark slips right in and locks the door, turning on the shower and jumping in right away.

The water is like ice, but after the original chill, it feels nice on his skin. 

He takes his time in the shower, and only gets out when his head is a little more settled, and his heart is beating normally. 

Mark dresses in silence, and makes a mental note to do laundry before walking down the stairs and into the kitchen. In there, Jack is leaning on the counter, drinking coffee and staring at his phone, while Remy is scowling at him from across the room. 

Not anxious to get in the middle of whatever latest feud they've had, Mark tries to enter silently. 

He realizes he's failed when Jacked is sending the coffee pot over his way. 

Using all of his energy, Mark takes the pot and pours himself a cup. His heart is thumping dutifully along, albeit faster than one may consider healthy. 

Picking up his mug, Mark sits next to Remy and tries to engross himself in conversation with her, attempting to pretend that Jack isn't three feet away and sending Mark's body into crisis mode.

***

The rest of the weekend passes in a similar fashion.

However, while Jack seems as collected as he always is, Mark is quickly spiraling out of control. 

He's gotten used to his heart speeding up, and the nagging thoughts, but the one thing he can't seem to shake has something very much to do with what's sent him down this path. 

That night, why did Jack hold his hand? Why not push him? Or let him bail? Or just jump with him? There were so many alternatives, and the wondering is killing him. The more time he thinks about it, the more psychoanalyzation he does, and the more frazzled he becomes. 

By Monday evening, he realizes that the only way he's going to get closure about what happened on Friday is to ask about it. And for once, this is a question he doesn't want to ask. 

And for some reason, this makes it easy to shove the thought away. 

However, that doesn't change much. 

Jack has apparently noticed that something's up with Mark, and on the way home, he finally breaks. 

"What the fuck is up with you?" He breathes, stopping in the middle of their walk to look at the half-Korean.

"What?" Mark asks, making himself meet Jack's eyes. 

"You haven't said a damn thing this whole walk, and it's freakin' me the fuck out." 

And suddenly, Mark realizes it doesn't matter. 

And the reason it doesn't matter is because the only one privy to his newfound information, is Mark. And because of this, it's all up to him. He's in control, and it's a very comforting thought. 

So he grins, apologizes, and begins to tell a story, and they walk on. 

And it feels normal. 

And it's nice.

***

With Mark more or less back to normal (What really is normal anyway? And has it ever applied to Mark? Probably not.) the week flies by as per usual. Mark and Jack walk to work, eat, and walk home, and Mark revels in every moment of it. 

And finally, it's Friday night, and Mark is more than ready to crash. He changes into pajamas at record speed, and jumps into bed, snuggling up and falling asleep mere moments later. 

***

Mark doesn't know what time it is, but he thinks it's early. Sleepily, he sits up, turning to see Jack putting things in a bag. When Jack sees Mark is awake, they make eye contact and Jack stops moving. 

"What are you doing?" Mark asks through a yawn. 

Jack pauses before slinging the bag over his shoulder. 

Hesitantly, he addresses Mark."You can come and find out, if you want." 

And within moments, Mark is out of bed and getting dressed. He thinks he hears Jack mentioning something about coffee, but Mark is too frazzled to care.

***

Fully clothed, Mark appears in the kitchen, accepting his coffee as Jack moves to put his shoes on. 

When they're finally ready to go, Jack opens the door and turns left, Mark close on his heels.

Very quickly, Mark realizes that Jack is going to take photos. 

Desperately wanting to watch Jack as he does so, Mark remains silent, hoping that Jack will forget about him and not change his mind. 

And it works, because all morning, Mark is in awe of the Irishman. His shots are genuine as always, and the look of pure concentration on his face tells Mark that he does try, and he does care, at least a little bit. 

And when the end of the morning comes around, and they're walking home, Mark is on cloud nine. They're having a pleasant conversation, well Mark is, when Mark leans over to look at the camera. The silent request is acknowledged as Jack turns on the camera and hands it to Mark. 

Accepting the equipment delicately, Mark scrolls through the photos, loving each black and white capture more than the one previous. 

When he reaches the end, he decides that the last picture is his favorite, and he tells Jack this. 

"I love them all, but this last one is my favorite."

Jack rolls his eyes, but accepts the camera to check which picture it is. 

In this case, the picture in question is a daughter being lifted onto her fathers shoulders. The daughter is squealing, eyes shut and mouth open in pure joy while her father watches her with a look of pure adoration, and between them, an aura of trust is evident. 

The picture makes warmth bloom in Mark's chest, and continues to do so all day. 

And that night, Mark goes to bed only to find a small print of the picture lying on his pillow. 

Gently, Mark picks it up and regards it fondly before pinning it to the wall above his desk. 

This time he's not sure if the warmth he's feeling is from the photo, or the gesture. 

Who knows.


	11. A Lesson in Timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! As promised, the first chapter in a fluff free world is here... 
> 
> I don't know how bad it really is because I wrote it, and I know what happens, so my emotions aren't exactly what you'll be feeling (or not feeling if this is a crummy chapter) but I very much hope you like it! 
> 
> As usual, thank you so so so much for the love, and all the comments!! They always make my day to read, and I've actually screenshotted all of them because they always make me smile!! :)) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think!! :)) <3

The week has been long and boring. 

By Friday, Mark feels like every single thing he attempts is a challenge, and he's beyond ready for the weekend.

Even his clothes seem to weigh ten pounds a piece, and even the simple task of putting them on puts him in a foul mood.

By the time he's trudged downstairs, he realizes they're going to be late...not that he can bring himself to care. Considering this is practically Mark's dream job, (even though it's an internship) that's saying something.

By the time Mark gets downstairs, Jack is in the kitchen, and when Mark enters the Irishman hands him a mug of steaming hot coffee.

Accepting it gratefully, Mark takes a long sip. It's stronger than he usually takes it, and for that he's even more grateful. When he looks up to give Jack an appreciative gesture, the Irishman is watching him over the lip of his own mug. They make eye contact, and Mark tries to look as grateful as possible, and he feels that he's successful. It only goes on for a few moments before Jack nods and begins to walk out the door.

Mark follows, sipping his coffee as Jack puts his shoes on, and slips out the door. 

With Mark's pure exhaustion and Jack's personality hindering any chance of conversation, the walk is silent. Normally, this would irk Mark, but in his current state he finds it calming. 

They manage to get to work more or less on time, and no one seems to notice their momentary absences.

Getting to work swiftly and silently, Mark does the best work he can manage, only cutting a few unnecessary corners. 

In fact, he gets so absorbed, he doesn't even realize it's lunch until Jack taps on his screen. Mark looks up at the Irishman and nods at the silent 'you coming?'. Idly Mark wonders if Jack was there for long, but he doubts it. 

As it's raining that day, Jack and Mark opt to eat outside under the canopy. Mark wouldn't have thought to do that, but he's so used to following Jack he just does it, and when they end up only feet away from their usual spot, he doesn't question it.

There's that trust thing again. 

"Okay so why do you hate Remy so damn much" Mark says, partly because he really does want to know, but also because he hopes it will distract him from all the useless thoughts swirling around in his mind.

Jack let's out a somewhat exaggerated sigh and sets his lunch down, giving Mark an exasperated glare.

"There's no such thing as free questions." 

Mark opens his mouth to remind him about their trip to the pub, and how there were several free questions, but he senses mentioning that he guilt-tripped Jack would not make his lips any looser. 

"I know." 

Jack seems to mull this over before tossing his coffee in the trash and leaning closer to Mark. 

"Okay, so why don't you ask Remy why we don't get along. And then, when you've done that, I'll give you my answer." He leans back and crosses his arms, hiding his hand in the fold of his elbow. "That's your dare." 

"Alright." Mark says, with faux confidence. 

Jack shakes his head before standing up. If he had been anyone else, or had he just left, it would have been rude, but with Jack, it's a silent 'are you ready?' that Mark answers just as silently by following Jack.

They're silent conversations seem to say more than their actual ones do. 

Mark finds that he kind of likes it.

 

***

Timing, Mark supposes, is indeed everything.

Had he not gotten up to go to the bathroom, he would not have seen Jack leaving early. Had Jack not left early, Mark would not have rushed to finish and follow him home in curiosity. Had Mark not come home a half an hour after Jack, he would have never seen. 

It had all started with the dreaded trip to the bathroom. 

***

Mark has to pee. 

A normal bodily function that Mark generally avoids doing at work. For one, it's always really gross in there, but for another, people are always in there talking. It's the equivalent to the work water cooler, and Mark can't pee when people are listening and watching and it's just generally not a good scenario. 

But today, with the amount of coffee he has imbibed, it is inevitable, and the only thing he can do is hope that people aren't on break, and that the bathroom is empty.

***

The office-bathroom gods, whoever they may be, seem to be on Mark's side, as when he arrives it's empty. 

Not wanting to risk anyone coming in, he pees quickly, washes his hands, and leaves. 

When he's sitting back down at his desk, he looks to see what Jack is doing.

Only, Jack isn't there. And none of his stuff is either. Which means he went home. As if to punctuate this thought, Mark turns to see Jack walking into the front hallway, and subsequently leaving.

Taking a quick look at his watch, Mark confirms that it's only 5:00, and that Jack has indeed left early.

With that part of the equation solved, the why, and how are still swirling around in his thoughts, both demanding answers.

And Mark is curious, on a good day. But on a Friday, where he's so tired he can barely stare at his screen? Cutting out early to find out where Jack's off to is more than appealing. So he finishes up, ending fifteen minutes or so later, and goes to turn his papers into Peter.

Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door. A muffled 'come in' brings Mark to open the door and stick his head in. 

"Oh, Mark. Hello!" Peter chirps, obviously a bit surprised to see him. 

"Uh, hey." Mark says, slowly clearing his head. "I'm not feeling well and I've finished up, do you mind if I cut out early?"

Peter waves him off. "Not at all! Go home!"

Mark thanks him and leaves the office, a slight headache seeping into his temple.

***

When he gets home, the house is more or less, silent. Everyone's still out, and so this is to be expected, but it's still a weird feeling. 

Shaking it off, Mark jogs up the stairs (how he's found the energy to jog, Mark doesn't know) and stops in front of there doorway. 

Opening it and stepping inside, there's a moment of heart wrenching silence. 

It's all in slow motion.

Jack is on his bed, leaning over something that Mark assumes to be a canvas, with a pencil loosely held (if you could call it holding) in his hand. He looks up, and the pencil falls away without his concentration. It's silent and Mark suddenly wishes he hadn't left early.

He wishes he hadn't gone to the bathroom, and that he came home at the normal time as Jack obviously has planned. 

And the guilt hits him in the stomach. 

An apology is heavy on his lips, but Jack is faster. The Irishman tosses the canvas aside and slides past Mark as fast as his legs will take him. 

And by now, with the way Jack took so much care not to touch him, Mark feels even worse. His stomach is sick and he wants to go to sleep and wake up and have this all be a dream. 

He knows he walked in on something personal, and Mark suddenly feels like an intruder in his own room. 

Without trying to, his eyes drift to the canvas on the floor. Shakily, Mark picks it up and looks at it.

On it, in the faintest pencil lines (if you can call them 'lines'...) are scratched to form what Mark thinks is supposed to be someone in a tree, but it could also be a face. 

Mark drops the canvas and goes to wash his face in the bathroom. 

He feels horrible. 

So when an offer comes to forget about it, for at least a few hours anyway, he jumps on it. 

And that's how he ends up at the bar with Remy. 

And it would indeed seem that timing is everything.


	12. A Lesson in Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright wow, first I really gotta thank you guys. 
> 
> I got some of the most amazing, nicest comments ever, and while I always love and appreciate what you guys do, I was having a really bad day, and getting all these wonderful comments, and kudos, and hits just instantly made me feel so much better, so really, thank you so much! I'm incredibly grateful. 
> 
> With that out of the way, I have a question. 
> 
> I was thinking of maybe posting a very short prequel to this story about Jack's life before he met Mark after I finished writing this story, and I was wondering if that would interest anyone? 
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter 12, thank you for reading, I love you guys all so much, and let me know what you thought of the chapter and maybe a Jack story! 
> 
> Okay, I hope you enjoy the chapter! :))

Time is not on Mark's side this week.

That's what he decides when he walks into the bar, and the first person he spots is the very person he was hoping to temporarily forget about. 

Jack. 

The Irishman is sitting over at a booth, drinking. He's tucked into the corner, wearing an odd expression as he sips at his beer. The sight makes Mark's heart lurch painfully, and his stomach sick. Remy catches the expression on Mark's face and follows his line of sight to Jack. Upon seeing Jack, her eyebrows raise, and she turns to Mark.

"So Jack looks absolutely no different to me," she admits "but you look miserable. And concerned. So who or what kicked your pitbull?"

Mark's breath catches when she says it. He knew his face would be obvious, he just had no idea Jack's wouldn't be. To Mark, Jack's expressions and emotions are so clear to him now. Little things he never used to notice are maximized for Mark to see, and take note of. 

"Well uh, me I guess." Mark admits glumly, taking one more look at Jack before ordering a drink. When both he, and Remy have drinks in their hands, and it's clear Mark's not getting away without the story, he continues. "So Jack left early today, and I was curious so I left early too. I got home about a half an hour after he did. And I should have- I just didn't- and... Well it was so weird, but I walked in on him hunched over a canvas." Now that Mark's started, the guilty words flow out of him like rushing water. "And I should have thought that he might have left for something personal, but it just didn't click, and so I just walked in, and there he was, and I just... He left, and It was so... And you didn't see... And I just feel so bad! And by the way, why does Jack hate you so damn much?" All of this comes out a jumbled mess of words, somehow managing to take only one breath to get out.

Remy looks at him with a confused expression on her face before the expression changes to one of recognition, and with a small gasp she fumbles to pull out her phone. 

"Oh god I'm so damn stupid!" She exclaims, typing furiously into her keyboard, scrolling and then shoving the phone in Mark's face. "No wonder Peter wanted him so bad!"

Mark blinks at the screen in his face before squinting to read what it says. 

'Sean William McLoughlin, 17, becomes youngest member to have work displayed at the West Hills Gallery...' Here, Mark stops reading and grabs the phone, scrolling down to look at the picture. Mark's eyes widen. In the picture, a younger, significantly happier Jack is dressed in a suit, standing next to a painting hanging on the wall. The painting itself is beautiful. It's a person in the fetal position underground, with her hair becoming roots, and a small sprout above ground where her nose is. The colors are muted, but so perfectly selected and blended. It's a gorgeous picture, but it isn't what takes Mark's breath away. 

Jack is. 

This Jack looks so happy. He's smiling from ear to ear, and there's a certain look in his eyes that Mark's never seen before. 

And suddenly Mark feels like he might throw up. 

If seeing Jack's canvas was an invasion of privacy, this is breaking in and setting up spy cameras. He feels so guilty he feels like he might throw up. Or pass out. Or both.

He has to tell Jack, and apologize, and he needs to make it right, because he cannot live with this horrible feeling plaguing his chest for any longer. He feels it weighing him down, and he knows sleep will be impossible unless he gets this off his chest.

So he chugs the rest of his beer, and he's about to go to Jack before he realizes that Remy never answered his question. 

"You didn't answer my question." Mark points out. 

"You're stalling." She replies, leaning against the bar. 

Nodding, Mark agrees with her. "Yeah, but still, answer my question." 

She looks at him, studying every inch of his face with a scrutiny he's never seen, before she relents with a sigh. 

"On the first day, I, uh, I did something I'm not particularly proud of." She trails off and chews her lip, looking to mark anxiously. "On the first day, when I first saw his hand, I made a joke."

Mark tries not to look too horrified as he prompts her on. "What did you say?"

"I asked him if he had been fisting tractors." Remy says quietly. 

It's clear to Mark that she feels bad, but that still doesn't mean she didn't say it! 

Mark's shaking his head and turning to go to Jack again when Remy grabs his arm and spins him about face. 

"But Mark, I think he's also... A bit jealous, if you know what I mean." Remy is giving him such an intense look Mark knows he's been oblivious to something. But right now, with Jack taking up 99% of his brain function, he couldn't care less about whatever he's missing. So he nods, and leaves Remy to go apologize to Jack.

With a deep breath he pushes everything Remy said, and slides in across from Jack in the booth. When he sits down, Jack looks up lazily, and Mark is a bit shocked by how drunk Jack is, and by how much his face and stature is altered by the alcohol.

His face is looser, and his shoulders are more relaxed somehow. Like the normal weight and tension has been lifted from them.

Then again, that is what alcohol does, does it not?

And then, Mark realizes how fast Jack must have been drinking to reach this level of intoxication, when he's only been here for 30 minutes, tops. 

And the guilt makes another appearance, stabbing mark in the gut.

Concerned Mark watches Jack intently, and with Jack having nothing to say, as per usual, the two sit in silence for many moments. 

It's only broken when Mark remembers what he came here for. He takes a deep breath, and then another for confidence, and then blurts it out. 

"Jack I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been nosy and left early when you did, and I'm so sorry for intruding, and I'm even more sorry that I looked at the canvas, and I'm just so sorry." Mark blurts, unsure of what to say that will show Jack just how bad he feels about all of this. With no reaction from Jack, he plows on. "And I'm sorry but Remy got the story out of me, and she googled you, and we found this article about you, and your paintings, and I'm just so sorry Jack. Please believe me I feel so bad." There's another moment of silence before Mark remembers yet something else he has to apologize for. "And I'm sorry I questioned why you hated Remy so much, she told me what happened and that's a justifiable reason to hate someone, and I'm just really really sorry." With all confessions and apologies out, Mark lets out a shaky breath and watches Jack for any and all signs of reaction. 

And to Mark's surprise and horror Jack just smiles lazily. To anyone else it would have been nonchalant, but to Mark, he knows exactly what the smile says. Jack is hurt, but he's pretending he isn't, and he's shoving away the feelings, and for some reason forgiving Mark.

And he's also drunk, so there's that. 

And finally, after the silence stretches on, Jack speaks. 

"Just ask me." He says, the lazy-drunken-fake-whatever smile still evident on his face. When Mark hesitates Jack repeats it. "C'mon you know you want to ask." Jack says in a voice that a mother might use when coaxing her young child into doing something. 

And finally Mark relents. 

"Okay." He says quietly. "Jack, what happened to your hand?"


	13. A Lesson in Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you're all doing well, I just wanted to thank you all so much, because I've just noticed we hit 1,700 hits! And I'm so happy and grateful :) so as always, thank you for the love and comments and for everything!!
> 
> They mean so much to me :) 
> 
> It looks like I will be posting a prequel all about Jack!!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think!

With the words barely out of his mouth, Jack is on his feet.

And subsequently, Mark is too. With his beer forgotten, Jack grabs Mark's hand with purpose and pulls him outside. His fingers are so warm, and against Mark's clammy hand it feels nice. Unsure what to do, or what to make of the gesture, Mark simply follows along quietly and tries not to worry about what will be happening next. 

Mark has no reason to worry, as it would seem, because they aren't walking for long, stopping on the beach.

Jack releases Mark's hand, and Mark ignores how cold it now feels, and how much he'd very much like for Jack to take his hand again in favour of looking at Jack. 

Jack is watching him carefully, and Mark wonders if he's reading his mind or studying his features because Mark is certainly caught up in doing the latter. 

The Irishman is pale, as always, and Mark just can't help but wonder if this thing, whatever it has to do with painting, and his hand, has been plaguing Jack for a while. But plagued or not, the light of the full moon illuminating his pale skin is beautiful. It's almost giving it a glow, and paired next to his dark blue shirt, the difference is stark. His blue eyes have the smallest reflection of the sky, and his eyes are so blue that Mark wonders how much color can be packed into such a small space, and what is that specific color that blue? There are a lot of good words for blue. Cobalt, azure, periwinkle... Cobalt. Jack's eyes are cobalt. Yes, Jack has cobalt blue eyes. And suddenly Mark is plagued by questions. Like, why is it so easy to get lost staring into these eyes of Jack's? What makes them so special? Is it the eyes themselves? Or perhaps who they belong to? And what does Jack think of Mark, and of Mark's own eyes. Does he look behind Mark's glasses and into his own brown eyes and wonder what exact shade of brown they'd be called? And does he get lost the way Mark so often seems to when looking straight into Jack's eyes? And is Jack some sort of magical creature that captures his victims with his eyes? 

These questions go unanswered as Mark gets more and more lost in the blue orbs of Jack's eyes.

Thankfully, it's not too long before Jack starts to speak and pulls Mark's attention away. 

"Alright." He says once, looking at Mark still. "Alright. To earn the final piece of the puzzle, you have to skinny dip." Jack says with a limp gesture to the water. The smile from earlier is gone, replaced with a calculating look. 

Mark nods and without hesitation starts to pull off his shoes. As he's removing his socks, he wonders if he would have done this a month ago, and he knows that no, he probably wouldn't. But after all this? After dying his hair, and jumping 30 feet, and after getting to know Jack? Well, Mark knows he trusts him. And skinny dipping? That's nothing. So he does it without protest, and he's only minimally surprised when Jack too, begins to strip, standing next to him naked only moments later.

And then they're walking into the water, and it's so cold that Mark's body wants him to stop, wants him to turn back and not run butt-naked into the dark frothy waves in front of him. But with Jack at his side, the moon above him, and questions about to be answered, he pushes on. He trudges through the water, and braces himself against the crashing of the waves, and ignores the salty spray that's chilling him to the bone. And then suddenly, Jack stops, and he turns to Mark, and under the starlit sky, they nod, and dive under. 

The shock to Mark's system is harsher than he expected, and he finds himself bursting to the surface with his breath catching, and his heart pumping. 

"It's so cold!" Mark exclaims weakly, teeth chattering a bit. 

At first, Mark isn't sure if Jack has heard him, but then, he hears laughter, and he turns to see Jack right next to him, and what started as a small laugh turns into a full on laughing spasm, and soon Mark is laughing as well, and it's like the night they jumped. They're laughing for no sane reason, but they can't stop, and maybe it's the water, or the adrenaline, or the starlight but Mark doesn't want to stop. Because in this moment, his heart is filled to the brim with happiness, in fact it's overflowing, and he can't believe that minutes ago he was guilt ridden, because right now he is just so happy, and Jack is too, and Mark just can't stop laughing. 

And then suddenly, Mark is brought out of his revelry by a cold splash of water. Shocked, Mark turns to Jack, only to see the Irishman giggling. And it's then that Mark remembers how absolutely hammered Jack is, and how he should definitely not be swimming, or anywhere near water that isn't in a glass.

However, before he can order Jack back on land to safety, another splash comes, and Mark has no choice but to retaliate. He splashes back, and soon they're involved in an all out war. 

They're going all out, each splash punctuated by barks of laughter, and Mark is sure that they look like a bunch of maniacs. 

However, he finds he really, really doesn't give a damn. 

And suddenly, Jack stumbles forward, and all splashes stop. They both straighten up, and they meet eyes. Warm brown meeting ice blue. And they stay this way, both breathing rough and slow, not doing anything but staring at each other.

But then they're not just standing still, and they're not staring, and Jack is leaning in, slowly. Slow enough that Mark could pull away if he wanted to. 

But he doesn't want to. 

So he lets Jack press his lips against his. 

The kiss is everything Jack isn't. It's soft, and hesitant, and slow. And Mark finds he likes it a lot, so he kisses back, and he tangles his hands in Jack's bright green, dripping locks, and pulls him closer. And with that one swift action, Jack has one hand on Mark's back, and the other behind Mark's neck, pulling him into Jack's body, and kicking up the intensity and the intimacy of the moment. And with it the kiss changes almost instantly. This kiss is different. 

It's intense, and it's hot, and it's probably the best kiss Mark's ever had and it's-

Not happening anymore.

Mark is left stunned and dizzy as Jack breaks away abruptly and moves for the shore.

Even as Jack dresses, Mark is rooted to the spot, waves still crashing against his back as he stands dumbfounded with his fingers grazing his buzzing lips, mind still focusing on the ghost of Jack's fingers pressed into his skin. 

A rather rough wave snaps Mark out of his daze, and brings him to the shore. He's pulling on his boxers, ignoring how the thin fabric clings to his wet skin, and trying very much to ignore the water droplets on Jack's eyelashes and the-

No.

Mark focuses every possible brain cell on tying his shoes, all but forcing himself to not look at Jack. 

When he finally straightens, said green-haired Irishman is waiting for him. Soon though, Jack spins on his heels and walks over to the dock. Following close behind, Mark jogs to catch up with him. 

Neither of them speak as they sit down at the end of the dock and dangle their feet above the water.

They don't speak as they watch the moon, and they don't speak as they hear the sounds of a car starting.

In fact, it stays silent for almost ten minutes until Jack speaks.

"Hey," he says, not looking at Mark. "Do you remember what I said about my family?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluffernutter sandwich I prepare for you :)) see you in a few days :))


	14. A Lesson in Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the AMAZING comments! I was blown away, and I appreciate them so very much, thank you all!! 
> 
> Also, I just want to say that I LOVE theories and questions, so please, don't hesitate to ask, or theorize because I loooovveee hearing what you have to say!! 
> 
> Anyway, hopefully you know how grateful I am by now, so I'll let you read!! 
> 
> All will be revealed... Or will it? 
> 
> Let me know what you think, and again thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> Enjoy!!

"Do you remember what I said about my family?"

Mark turns to Jack to study his profile. 

The Irishman is watching the water with such intensity that it's hard to believe that mere moments ago they were laughing in the water. 

And kissing. 

Mark mentally slaps himself and regains focus.

"Yeah." Mark says, unsure of where the conversation is going, but keen to be a part of it. 

"Well they're important." When Jack says this, he pulls his knees to his chest and hugs them, staying silent for a moment. "So, like I said, my siblings and I were all interested in different things." With this Jack slowly shuts his eyes, letting his lashes kiss his cheek as he formulates his thoughts. He's pale, and under the moonlight his skin shimmers like it had moments ago, only now, he's dry. And then, like it never happened, Jack's eyes are open and he's speaking again. "And my parents were always involved. They went to my brothers matches, and my sister Jen's open houses... Hell, they even tape Megan's postcards to the fridge." His tone is turning bitter as he slowly turns to face Mark. When their eyes meet, Mark wishes they hadn't, for Jack's eyes are the most vulnerable and expressive they've ever been. There's bitterness, anger, and a twinge of sadness, and overall it hurts to see them, and the pain Jack's in. So tentatively, Mark reaches out for Jack's (left) hand, and laces their fingers together, offering a comforting squeeze. Jack doesn't say anything, but he doesn't pull away either. Eventually, he continues. "And like them, I had interests too. Except for me, I liked to paint." He seems shy almost, so Mark gives his cold hand another squeeze. "That's total bullshit actually. I didn't just like painting, I fuckin' loved it. I spent all my money on supplies, and I did it in every second of my free time. I was never really good at making friends, so they never got in the way. And most days, I'd grab my shit and run off somewhere on the farm and I'd paint until it was dark." He lets go of Mark's hand only to pull it closer to him to stare at it and trace the lines with his finger. "I guess when you do something so much, you're bound to get good at it, right? Well no one my family ever knew was successful with painting. So they assumed I wouldn't be either. They tried to get me to stop, my fuckin' sister even told me I'd never get anywhere, but I didn't give a fuck. I just liked painting." He turns to Mark lazily, his eyes no less expressive than before. "So for the most part my painting was unsupported. But not totally. Because I had this teacher. An art teacher. And she thought I had talent." Here he scoffs, and Mark can hear how hollow and deprecating it is, and it breaks Mark's heart. "Anyway, in my 12th year, she submitted my work to a gallery, and they featured it. I'm guessing that's what the article was about." Jack's look is not accusatory, but Mark feels guilty anyway.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

Jack doesn't respond right away, and the guilt from before settles heavy in his stomach. 

"It's fine." He croaks finally. "But yeah, I was so fuckin' proud. I thought they'd finally see my work and be proud too. I thought... It was stupid. I thought they'd finally support me too. So after I graduated, I dragged them down to the gallery, and I showed them my work. And you wanna know what they did?" 

Mark doesn't know how to respond to the deeply set rage of past hurt simmering in Jack's eyes, so he scoots closer. So close their thighs are pressed against each other, leeching and sharing warmth, like the day in cab. 

That memory seems so long ago now.

"What did they do?" Mark replies quietly, meeting Jack's eyes and holding his gaze. 

"They took that opportunity to tell me that college wasn't an option, and that I was going to keep the farm in the family." Jack's tone is flat as he looks out at the water again. "And I was pissed. Dunno what I was expecting, but it sure as fuck wasn't that. So I went home. I knew they would give me space, so I took the opportunity. I wanted to fuck my dad over, ruin his day like he had ruined mine." Jack swallows and lets out a shaky breath before plowing on. "So I went to the barn, and I went to my dad's tractor." 

Mark's heart is in his stomach, and he very much feels like he knows where this is going.

"And this fuckin' tractor is so fuckin' old." Jack takes another deep, shaky breath and shakes his head angrily. "I wanted to take the blades out, so my dad would do a whole day's worth of work, or at least a morning's full, and then realize the blades weren't in, and have to start over. But this tractor, it's old. So to remove the blades, you have to have the tractor on." Jack is clenching his jaw, and Mark is dizzy. He doesn't want to hear this. He doesn't want to know, he just wishes he had never asked. "So I turned on the tractor and I went to take the blades off. But I-" Jack's voice breaks, and he shakes his head angrily. "But I forgot to disengage them. So when I stuck my hand to pull them out..." He doesn't say anything else. He just holds his hand up to Mark's face. 

Mark's stomach rolls, and he's unable to speak. 

"The doctors did the best they could. But I can't even hold a fuckin' fork, let alone a paintbrush." 

"Jack..." Mark says, finally able to get the words out.

"So I let it heal, and I came here." 

Mark bites his lip. "Jack I'm sorry." 

"It's fine." Jack says with a quick shrug, but Mark can hear how bitter the words are, and he knows that it's definitely not fine. However, Mark also knows when not to push. So he doesn't. And they sit in silence under the moonlight. Sitting close, but both a million miles away from each other. 

It's silent until Jack speaks up. "I don't have any other secrets to trade." 

It's barely a whisper, and had Mark's sense not been so fine tuned to anything Jack-related, he would have missed it. But he didn't miss it. He heard every word. So he turns to Jack with a small smile.

"That's okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! (Again) 
> 
> Sorry for the very short chapter... 
> 
> I wrote this one, and I agonized over it, tried to lengthen it, but one of my best friends told me that it was raw enough that I could get away with the pathetic amount of words I gave... Sorry!! :(( I promise a super long next chapter :)) <3


	15. A Lesson in Vulnerability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! 
> 
> So as always, thank you so darned much for all the love and comments!! <3 (why did I use 'darned'? Who knows.) they made me so happy, and I'm just so very appreciative, and I hope you all know that! :)) 
> 
> Second, I'm sorry but this is definitely not one of my best chapters. I feel bad about giving you guys something that is not up to my usual standard of writing, but I really wanted to get this to you on time :) I'll probably go in and edit and fix it later, but for now, voila! 
> 
> Enjoy, and let me know what you think of the chapter!!

It's been a few days since the events that led up to the telling of the final piece of Jack's story. 

At first, everything seemed... more or less the same. They walked home in (what Mark thought was) a companionable silence, and both went to bed. 

Sure Mark's mind was buzzing with all the new information, and sure he didn't really sleep, but he thought everything was fine. 

On Saturday, Mark is far too absorbed in his thoughts to notice Jack or changes that might have occurred. While his focus is still very much on Jack, this time he's got his magnifying glass watching Jack from last night. The Jack that kissed him and then left him dizzy. The Jack that shared his story with Mark and left him thoughtful. The Jack that Mark feels he doesn't know at all. 

That's not true. 

Mark does know Jack, and that Jack is no different than any other Jack that Mark has encountered- Mark just has more data now. 

And so, mind full of information, Mark attempts to sort through it, analyzing every single thing he comes across. 

He begins to make a mental list, starting with what Jack revealed about himself.

-He used to be a painter, and a fairly good one at that apparently.   
-His family didn't support his painting.  
-Jack didn't want to work on the farm for the rest of his life.  
-Jack wanted to get revenge.  
-Jack accidentally ruined his life.

For once, Mark is satisfied. For once he doesn't need to know why Jack liked to paint, or why his family didn't support it, or why he chose that for revenge. 

And maybe, that's because Mark has those answers somewhere, swirling around somewhere amongst all the other newfound information.

But maybe it's because the more pressing issue on Mark's mind is how Jack's lips felt against his, and how they're bodies fit together so perfectly, and how Mark's fingers felt all tangled up in Jack's hair. 

Even just thinking about the kiss sends tingles up his spine, and puts the hair on his arms standing straight up. 

The question remains, though. Why did Jack kiss him? Was he simply drunk and wanted a mouth to kiss? Or was Jack specifically craving Mark's mouth, with the alcohol only acting as an enabler? 

Mark finds he doesn't really care, he just wants it to happen again. 

***

With everything more or less mentally sorted out, Mark is able to focus on normal everyday tasks, and the outside world on Sunday. 

And it's then that Mark starts to get the idea that everything is not fine. 

Jack is acting strangely.

The first thing he notices is that Jack is nowhere to be seen when he wakes up. This isn't all together remarkable, so Mark pays it no mind. 

But then he's gone all day, and when he is home, he avoids Mark like the plague.

With this, Mark reasons Jack might just be in a bad mood. So again, he pushes the concern to the back of his mind and goes on with his daily business.

However, when he wakes up on Monday morning, and Jack isn't waiting for him in the kitchen with coffee, and Remy tells him Jack's left already, Mark can ignore it no longer. 

Jack is avoiding him. 

Mark is more than a little embarrassed to admit that the first concern he has is that Jack is avoiding him because Mark fucked up the kiss. Too much tongue? Not enough? Something else?

Mostly to save himself from mortification, he rationalizes that it's far more likely that Jack is uncomfortable with what happened, and that's why he's avoiding Mark.

Or at least that's what Mark keeps telling himself.

And so, the rest of the day plays out, Jack avoiding Mark, and Mark becoming more and more obsessed with why Jack is avoiding him. 

And by the end of the day, Mark still has no clue. 

Not that that's anything new.

They do walk home together though. Maybe it's because there was no way to not walk together without one of them taking a longer route, but Mark doesn't think so. Either way, it's awkward, and they don't speak, but Mark uses it as proof that Jack isn't mad at him for any reason, and because of that Mark doesn't mind how uncomfortable and stifling the silences are. 

The awkwardness lingers and threatens to suffocate them in the kitchen as Jack makes dinner. 

Normally, in any other situation like this, Mark wouldn't expect someone who's avoiding him to cook him dinner. However, ages ago, Jack and him had agreed to split the cost of food, and share everything, so Mark doesn't really have a choice. 

And as Mark's watching Jack slice vegetables, he realizes Jack is doing everything exclusively with his left hand. This isn't unusual for Jack, it's just unusual that he's doing it in front of Mark. Because Jack hasn't hidden his hand around Mark in a long time. 

And then it clicks, and Mark feels both guilty and oblivious for not noticing him sooner. 

With these thoughts in mind, he pulls Jack away from the stove. Jack tenses at his touch, but doesn't resist. When they're eye to eye, with Jack's back to the wall, Mark gently wraps his fingers around Jack's right wrist and pulls his hand from the pocket. Jack's face shows irritation, but Mark knows enough to ignore it. He knows where to look, and what the things he's looking for mean. And knowing where to look is so important with Jack, because without it he wouldn't have seen the vulnerability hidden behind the irritation. 

But even though he can see it, that doesn't change how the foreign the vulnerable expression is to Mark. 

Or at least, on Jack's face.

Jack is usually so guarded, and so good at being guarded, that Mark has to wonder if he were anyone, would Jack seem so exposed? Or is Mark special enough that Jack's vulnerability is caused specifically by him? 

They kissed, so Mark's got to be at least a little special. 

Not privy to Mark's thoughts, Jack is still watching him, wearing a slightly more neutral expression.

Mark ignores him in favor of his hand. He traces the scars gently with his index finger, doing both the back and front. Jack tenses at first, but his muscles relax eventually. 

With no more scars to trace, Mark pulls the hand up to his lips and gives it a quick kiss, barely brushing his lips against the skin before letting Jack withdraw it.

Jack watches him, wearing an indeterminable expression before leaning forward and pulling Mark down for a kiss.

This time, Mark wastes not a moment, and kisses back immediately, leaning into Jack and pressing him against the wall. 

Jack kisses like if he doesn't, he'll lose everything.

And the result is more than satisfactory.

Mark is tangling his fingers in Jack's hair when the door bangs open. 

Mark and Jack both pull apart instantly, jumping away from each other in favor of trying to seem inauspicious, and continuing whatever they were doing before. 

Mark's breath is ragged, and Jack's hair is mussed, but whoever came in doesn't come to the kitchen, so the two are left to have a fairly awkward dinner in peace. 

It's silent, but Mark doesn't care. Every single bit of energy he has is being thrown into not smiling like a moron. To do so he has to ignore the buzzing in his ears, the beat of his heart, and the tingles shooting up his spine. It's nearly impossible, but he manages it.

When he looks up, and sees Jack's face, he notices the slight tinge of red in the cheeks. The redness is slight, but most definitely there, and made far more noticeable by the paleness of the Irishman's skin. 

And Mark knows that neither of them will bring up the kiss, or what it means, and for now, he's fine with that.

The only thing he wants is for it to become a regular thing. He wants his heart to beat like this again, and he wants to get the fluttery feeling in his stomach again, and most of all he wants Jack pressed against him, kissing him senseless on a regular basis.

With all of the symptoms still affecting him, and the ghost of Jack's touch still on his skin, Mark goes to sleep on cloud nine.


	16. A Lesson in Recycling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all the love and comments!! 
> 
> I have to apologize, today's been SO crazy that I have to give you an unedited chapter... Forgive me, I really wanted to get this to you on time :) 
> 
> I know this is twice in a row, but I don't think there are any grammatical mistakes that would make it impossible to read.
> 
> I'll edit it and repost tomorrow.
> 
> I'm very sorry, I hope you still like it, and let me know what you think!! 
> 
> Ily (sorry :(() <3

The weekend has done wonders to rejuvenate Mark, so when Monday rolls around he has no trouble rolling out of bed. 

He showers quickly, shaves, dresses, and jogs down the stairs to meet Jack in the kitchen and retrieve his coffee. 

With at least a sip of coffee in him, they walk out the door together and make their way to work. 

And it's then that Mark realizes how little has changed. 

Sure they've started participating in some... 'extracurricular activities', but they're not anything more than they used to be. They're not together, they're just Jack and Mark. 

Who make out a lot. 

Mark is surprised to find that he's okay with this. For once, his mind doesn't need to nitpick every single thing about their interactions. 

And that's well... strange to Mark.

But hey, maybe Jack is a good influence on him. 

At first, he means it as a joke...but it's not a lie. Jack has been good for him. 

He's made him more fearless, more willing to jump into the unknown, more open to new ideas.

And for that, Mark is grateful. So grateful, he has to look down to hide his smile. 

Jack catches him and gives him a weird look before shaking his head and sipping his coffee.

But Jack's far too pale to get away with hiding even the most minor of blushes. 

***

Mark is just starting to make a dent in the day's to do list when Peter asks everyone for their attention. 

More than a little curious, Mark turns his chair to face Peter and places his hands in his lap. 

"Thank you." He says, giving an appreciative nod before continuing. "Alright so, as many of you- scratch that, as all of you should know, Nature Magazine is only a small magazine owned by a much larger company. Anyway, it would seem that we need to go up for a two day conference! Go 'back to our roots' if you will." He grins, "So yes, tomorrow morning, we'll all be meeting at the train station. You too, interns!" He announces, addressing Jack and Mark. At this, Jack perks up a little bit, paying more attention than he was a few moments ago. "Don't miss your train, because if you do it's coming out of your own wallet!" Peter warns before laughing and telling everyone to get back to work. 

"Hey, aren't the headquarters near NYU?" Mark queries, turning to face Jack.

Jack grunts a yes, scrolling through pictures idly. 

"...and don't you go to NYU."

"Yes." 

"...so you live near NYU."

Jack turns to Mark, to anyone else Jack would appear annoyed, but Mark knows not to let it phase him. 

"That's generally how it works." Jack says flatly, leaning back in his chair."

"So... You live by the headquarters."

"You do the math." Jack announces, swiveling to get back to work. 

Mark gives him a playful kick to the chair before returning to work as well.

***

Mark's eyes creak open to the sound of an alarm blaring. Wearily, he sits up and rubs his eyes, searching for the alarm. Yawning, he grabs his phone and shuts it off, taking a quick glance at the time. 

"Shit." He huffs, jumping out of bed and searching through heaps of clothing for actual dress pants. 

There's rustling from Jack's side of the room. Freezing, Mark slowly turns to look at the bed. 

There's someone in it. 

Well, Jack's in it...

Because it's his bed...

But it's weird, because Mark is almost 99% sure he's never seen Jack asleep in his bed. He goes to sleep after Mark, and gets up before him. 

Remembering the time constraint, Mark curses again and gently shakes Jack shoulder and tries to ignore how damn soft Jack's skin is.

"Jack, we're gonna be late." Mark hisses, attempting to somewhat gently, wake Jack up. 

There's a groan, before a bleary-eyed Jack sits up in bed and squints at Mark. 

"What." He says flatly, evidently not pleased about being woken up at 5:37 am. 

"We're gonna miss our train!" Mark exclaims, tossing some clothing and deodorant into a bag. 

"So?" 

"Jack!" Mark says, giving the Irishman a look before rushing to grab his toothbrush.

Mark hears him grunt, and get out of bed, but he doesn't see the Irishman until they're both out the door and running to the station. 

Luckily, they make it, barely catching sight of Peter as they board the Amtrak and shuffle into their seats.

Jack takes the window, and places his bag on the floor. A silent invitation that Mark takes without hesitation.

Enjoying the moment, Mark smiles and rummages for his headphones. 

Crestfallen, Mark realizes he forgot his headphones. 

"Shoot." He mumbles under his breath, looking at his phone with a disappointed countenance. 

Moments later, an earbud enters his line of sight. He pauses and looks up at Jack, just to make sure he's actually offering to share. 

When it's obvious Jack intends to share, Mark smiles gratefully and puts in the earbud. 

Jack presses play, and instantly a guitar riff sounds in Mark's ears. It's quickly backed up by drums and bass, and while it's a bit heavier than Mark would ever listen to, he finds he actually likes it. 

It's very... 'Jack-esque' and Mark finds himself absently tapping out the beat of the song on his knee. 

"Hey, who is this?" He asks, turning to face Jack.

Jack looks surprised by the question, but only for a second. "Queens of the Stone Age." 

Mark nods. "I like it." 

Jack rolls his eyes, but Mark smiles nonetheless and settles into his chair. 

Seeing as it's barely six o' clock, Mark decides to catch up on missed sleep, and nestles down into his chair. 

The last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep is how damn good Jack smells. 

***

When Mark wakes up, his earbud has fallen out, and there's a definite crick in his neck. Gingerly, he attempts to stretch it out. 

Turning to see what Jack's up to, he's a bit taken aback to find Jack slumped against the window, fast asleep as well. 

Looking at him, Mark feels his heart surge. The Irishman is curled up in his chair, snoring softly and creating small circles of condensation on the cold glass. 

Mark smiles again and settles back down into his own chair. 

The rest of the ride is very peaceful.

***

While the ride might have been peaceful, their arrival was anything but. 

For one thing, getting off the train was absolute chaos, and Mark nearly forgot his glasses.

Luckily, Jack saw them and handed them to Mark once they were on the platform. 

Running over to headquarters passes in a rush as cabs are called, and red lights are gone through. 

By some struck of luck, they manage to make it to the meeting on time. 

Jack and Mark take seats where Peter has lead them. 

"I want you two taking notes, give them to me at the end of the meeting, kapiche? Great." He claps them on the shoulder and then goes to take his own seat. 

Jack scoffs and stares at the pencil like it's just spit in his mashed potatoes. 

Mark is about to tease him about it, before he thinks twice and promptly shuts his mouth. His heart surges in gratitude at his brain for questioning the words that almost came out of his mouth. 

Jack is a righty. Or, was. Mark imagines he usually types, but now, with no laptop, and a dead phone from their train ride, Jack is backed into a corner. 

Noticing Mark's inquisitive gaze, Jack shoots him a half-hearted glare and picks up the pencil with his left hand. 

If this is because he genuinely wants to take notes, or if he simply doesn't want his pity, Mark does not know. 

***

Mark's hole hand is achy by the time the meeting is done.

And it wasn't even anything remotely enjoyable.

He just took notes. 

For over an hour.

Looking to his left to see how Jack has fared, Mark sees the other man spinning the pencil around on the desk idly. 

Curious, Mark leans over to check what he's written. The notes are messy, and smudged, but they're legible. Even if only barely so.

Peter approaches them, grinning, seemingly without a hair out of place, even after a long meeting like that. 

"Corporate." He jokes, holding his hand out for the notes. He collects them and looks them over, happening upon Jack's. "What am I supposed to do with this?" He queries, turning the paper around to show it to Jack. 

Jack gives it a bored glance. "I think people usually read and review notes, but I could be wrong. Sir." Jack says flatly, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice. 

Mark has to cough to cover the smile threatening his features. 

Peter shuts his mouth abruptly. "Rather hard when the writing is illegible." And he turns around, leaving the interns to their own devices. 

Neither Jack nor Mark miss the older man tossing one set of notes. 

They both know whose notes those are.

Jack's expression is stony as he removes his notes from the top of the trash. "Bastard could at least recycle." He grumbles, tossing them in the adjacent recycling bin. 

Mark watches Jack for any sign of hurt or anger. Finding none he rolls his eyes and starts to walk. Jack joins him. 

"What are you gonna do for the rest of the day?" Mark asks, looking around the hallway with interest. 

Jack hesitates. "I was gonna check on my apartment. You could tag along, if you know, you wanted to." He falters and shrugs. "You don't have to though." 

Mark smiles, bumping into Jack playfully. "Lead the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also!
> 
> I think I said it, but as I said before, haven't read through this in a while. The band Jack's listening to is Queens of the Stone Age. They're awesome and you should check them out!! 
> 
> Some good songs are 
> 
> 1.) 3's and 7's  
> 2.) First it Giveth  
> 3.) Little Sister  
> 4.) Go With the Flow  
> 5.) No One Knows
> 
> They've got tons of great songs but those are probably my top ten :) 
> 
> Enjoy!


	17. A Lesson in the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I apologize for another unedited chapter. I'm sick, and class work has been kind of heavy, so again, I apologize for the substandard chapter...
> 
> I hope you can forgive me!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support, I hope you know how much ever single word means to me :) 
> 
> In this chapter, we meet some super special people :)) 
> 
> I hope you like it, and let me know what you think!! 
> 
> Also, had the character development been slow and good and believable? This is new to me, so I'm always looking for feedback :)

Jack is silent as ever as they stroll down the streets of New York. 

Mark would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the silence.

He and Jack are walking close enough that every few moment a hand, or a leg, will brush against another and effectively send tingles up Mark's spine. The proximity in which they walk matches the silence so well that Mark is able to fully drink in the city around him. 

It's gorgeous, and he can feel his heart surging with happiness.

Finally, Jack stops, Mark following suit moments after. 

Jack motions to the building in front of them, a large brick cube, adorned with windows, doors, and fire escapes. 

"This is it." He says flatly, regarding the building with a look of minor recognition dawning his features.

It's not extravagant, but Jack, like Mark, is a student, and understands the constraints of having a budget. Plus, the building's situated in a pretty good spot. 

"I like it." Mark says truthfully. "It looks like it has pretty good lighting."

Jack grunts a response. "View from the roof isn't half bad, either." 

And with that, the two are walking again, still with this same unnecessary closeness as before. 

The day is a nice one, perfect for strolling in this way. Bright, clear skies lead the way, and crisp air (well as crisp as New York City air can be) helps them get there. 

When they stop for a second time, Mark is prepared. He sees the café, Two Cups, and stops before Jack does. Jack gives him a look that Mark can read as 'you remembered.' Mark gives him a smile in response before crossing the street. Jack catches up to him soon enough, and they enter the small café simultaneously. 

Mark looks around, trying to form a mental image of Jack working here. The walls are a pale mocha, and the two windows let in a steady stream of hazy light. The floor is old, and worn, but well taken care of. The place is simple, but perfect. There are worn in couches, and tables to sit, matched with the perfect clientele to complete the aesthetic. The back wall is adorned with thin Christmas lights, and a series of framed photos. 

No, most of the walls hold the photos. 

Each and every one in black and white...

Suddenly, Mark's thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a gasp, and then yelling. 

Suddenly, Jack is tackled by a woman and shortly after, a man. Jack tolerates the hugging for a few moments before shoving them off. 

The small grin on his face takes the edge off of the shove. 

They examine Jack for a few moments before noticing Mark. 

"Is that-"

Jack hastily interrupts them and spins around. 

"Mark, this is James, and Cassidy." He jerks his thumb towards the two smiling people. 

"Hi!" The girl, Cassidy, chirps, extending her hand to Mark eagerly. "It's so nice to meet you! We were worried about Jack being all alone somewhere new." 

Here Jack scoffs, but the smile and slight blush on his face is impossible to miss. 

"Nice to meet you." James says, offering his hand in a similar manner. He examines Mark with a critical eye, a small smile playing on his lips when he spots the faded dye in Mark's hair. "Nice hair." he murmurs giving Mark a pointed look.

For some reason Mark feels like that's an accusation. 

Cassidy coughs and leads Jack and Mark over to the counter, James following behind. 

"So! What brings you back to New York?" She asks pleasantly as she busies to make them all coffee. 

"Conference." Jack grunts, leaning on the counter. "Usual for me, two milk, two sugar for him." Jack says with a jerk in Mark's direction. 

James turns around to walk into the kitchen, but Mark doesn't miss the grin he shoots Cassidy. 

She rolls her eyes at him, and hands the mugs to Jack and Mark.

"So tell me everything." She instructs, leaning towards them.

"Actually, I gotta go do something." Jack announces, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'll be back in a bit." He stops to look at Mark, presumably asking if he'll be okay here. Mark grins and waves him off before turning around to Cassidy. 

She watches him leave before leaning in closer, James suddenly appearing next to Cassidy. He leans in as well, leaning on his hands. 

"So." James prompts, giving Mark a look. "What's Cape Evelynn like."

"Um, it's nice I suppose." Mark says slowly, watching them carefully. 

"Ignore him, how's Jack doing." 

"Is he eating?"

"Is he happy?"

They both pepper him with questions, endlessly asking about Jack's physical, mental, and emotional states of mind. 

Mark answers to the best of his ability, only quasi-satisfying them ten-twenty million questions later. 

"Okay, so which one of you applied to college for him?" Mark asks, when they step back to let him breathe. 

Cassidy points to James who gives an unapologetic look. 

"Yep. The internship as well." 

He doesn't seem at all sorry about it. 

"How did Jack react."

The twins (revealed earlier) share a look. 

"When we first met Jack, he was... an interesting character. He didn't have a whole lot going for him. So we gave him a job, and he worked hard to pay us back. It took a while, but we eventually reached a... precarious relationship, if you will."

At this Cassidy snorts. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

James shoots her a look before continuing. "Yeah, anyway, we got to know him better, and eventually, convinced him to take pictures for us, y'know publicity and stuff. So yeah, you can thank us for that." James says this and Cassidy rolls her eyes again before stepping aside to take an order. "Those are his prints on the walls, by the way." James says motioning to them. "After a while, we saw what he was capable of, and tried to convince him to do something about it. But Jack being Jack brushed us off. I got frustrated, and just... applied for him. It was pretty easy actually." James shrugs. "Fast forward, Cass and I have taken Jack under our wings, and we've basically become Jack's adoptive parents, so we try and keep up with his life, and happened upon-"

"Yes, 'happened upon.'" Cassidy pipes in from her spot at the coffee machine. 

"Happened upon the internship." James continues louder. "Jack, despite our begging, refused to apply. Seeing this as a repeat of NYU, I applied again. And well, I'm sure you know what happened from there." 

"Yeah, yeah I do." Mark says with a smile and a small laugh. "So... What was Jack like when you first met him." 

Cassidy gives a sad smile. "He was very shy. Didn't talk much." 

Mark shoots her a look. "That hasn't changed." 

She grins ruefully. "Yes, Jack does prefer to communicate through non-verbal methods doesn't he." Her countenance becomes more serious once more. "He was so broken when he first came in here." Her voice is barely a whisper as she stares off into the distance. "He came in for a cup of coffee, 35¢ short. I could see how tired he was, and well, my heart broke for him. So I told him not to worry about it, and if he wanted to pay me back, he could start working. He accepted, although it took a lot of convincing, and when he started, he was a good employee. His predominant left-handedness made it a bit more difficult for him, but he worked hard to make up for it." She smiles, looking down at her cup as though ensconced in a memory. "He's such a sweet guy." She gives Mark a lopsided smile. "Anyway, gradually, and I do mean gradually, we got his story out of him, and befriended him. What James said, about being his parents? Pretty much true. We took him under our wing a bit." Her expression is fond as she speaks. "I still worry about him sometimes, though." 

Mark nods, taking a sip from his drink. "I just wish he would apply himself, you know? He's so talented... If he just..." He trails off and James offers a sympathetic look.

"You're preaching to the choir kid." 

Mark chuckles, and is about to continue, when the door opens again, and Jack enters, this time carrying a folder. 

He walks in and slides the folder to James, who picks it up and leads through it. 

Mark realizes the folder is full of prints, some of which he even recognizes. James looks happy to have them, and thanks Jack repeatedly. 

Jack returns the mug and Cassidy hugs him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. James following suit.

Mark shuffles awkwardly as this goes down, unsure of what to do. 

Cassidy beckons to him and gives him a fierce tight squeeze before telling him to come visit. 

James hugs him as well, slipping him a small piece of paper with strict instructions to 'keep him updated.' 

Mark promises to do so, before turning around and following Jack back outside. 

It's been a nice afternoon.


	18. A Lesson in Contrast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourself for a longh author's note.
> 
> Alright so I think apologies are in order... I am so sorry. Like, so incredibly sorry you can't even imagine. I don't even know how long it's been since I've given you something, except that it's been way too long.
> 
> As a little explanation, I became super busy with my classes, and then decided I'd try inktober... Which just failed... So miserably.. I can't even explain it. (My Instagram is @rinske_13 if you want to check out my failure) sorry for the shameless self promotion.. Anyway. Thank you all SO much! Your continued support is really so baffling to me, but I appreciate so much. To get inspiration, I actually sat down and read through all of your comments, and I teared up a little bit, and they just mean so much to me, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you so gosh darned much. :) <3 I'm so sorry for how tardy this is, but I do hope you enjoy it!

Mark isn't really sure what to expect for the rest of the evening.

He'd like to see more of New York, but he's not sure if Jack would feel like giving a tour. 

He thinks that yes, Jack probably would, but he doesn't ask, just in case.

The truth is, New York seems to put Jack at ease. 

His shoulders are relaxed, and his gait is far more fluid than Mark's ever seen.

This of course greatly affects how Mark sees the city. Not that it matters much, as Mark is incredibly enamored with it. The buildings, the people, the coffee... Mark is heaven. 

***

New York is even prettier at night. 

Mark didn't think it possible for the city to take his breath away anymore than it already had, but he was wrong. 

Oh so wrong. 

It's a city of contrasts, bright lights against dark buildings, and darker skies. 

And so the vibe as they walk down the crowded streets is light and pleasant.

It's too loud to hold a conversation, so they don't even try. 

If the streets were loud, they're no match for the bar, 'Leviathan'. 

When they enter, it's a warm atmosphere. 

A loud one, but warm nonetheless. 

Jack takes a seat at the bar, and Mark sits next to him, regarding the Irishman carefully. 

When they both have drinks, Mark, as he's wont to do, realizes something.

"So I know you don't have any more secrets," Mark begins tentatively, gushing Jack's reaction. "But I have more questions."

Jack turns to face him, looking into the Korean's eyes and meeting his gaze dully.

"So I take it the game's back on." It's a question, but it doesn't sound like it.

Mark's silence is answer enough.

"What's your question."

"What happened when you got to New York."

Jack turns to the bartender. "Two shots of Jaeger."

Mark watches warily as the two glasses are set in front of them. 

Jack slides the two directly in front of Mark, and holds up his own drink in way of cheers. 

Mark's heart is beating. Fast. But whether it's been caused by the idea of downing two shots of Jaeger, or the grin playing on Jack's lips, Mark does not know. 

Mark clinks shot glass #1 against Jack's outstretched glass, and knocks it back. Making a face, he goes for number two, only coughing a bit. 

Jack's grin widens. "You okay there Markimoo?"

Mark grins. Not because of the nickname, but because of the playful tone that comes with it. 

The playful side of Jack isn't one Mark gets to see a lot, however, he's got a feeling that New York brings out the best parts of him.

"So?" Mark prompts, when Jack remains silent.

Jack rolls his eyes and finishes the rest of his drink. 

"So, when I came here, I spent my whole life savings on a shitty plane ticket and a down payment for an even shittier apartment." He turns around to face Mark head on, and Mark leans in a little closer, like a child eager for a bedtime story. 

Oh how he missed this...

"I was broke, so I went looking for a job. Didn't exactly have a resume, and most places had already reached their quota of college employees by the time I got here." Jack scoffs, but continues shortly after. "I had 2.43 cents left, and I decided to spend the last of my money on coffee." 

Mark doesn't know when, but at some point, Jack must moved in closer as well. It's the only explanation for the sudden closeness of their faces. 

Jack blinks slowly before continuing on. "Then, one day I was out for a walk, and I found James's and Cassidy's place, and I wanted a coffee." He shrugs before giving a somewhat hesitant rueful grin. "I had 2.43$, and a small black coffee was 2.78$. Cassidy made me the coffee, and when I went to pay, I was 35¢ short."

Mark smiles pleasantly, inexplicably pleased by the fact that Cassidy remembers it as well as Jack does.

"To make a long story short, I didn't have enough money to pay, and Cassidy made me take the coffee, and told me to show up tomorrow morning at four if I wanted to pay her back."

The eye contact between them in unwavering, an accidental staring contest. 

"So I showed up." Mark's gaze travels to Jack's mouth as the other man begins to speak. 

Jaeger is strong stuff...

"And I worked." 

Mark drags his eyes up to Jack's again. 

"And because the down payment included the first month's rent, started actually being able to pay my rent on time."

"And then?" Mark prompts, prompting for more.

"And then the concerned emails started flooding in." 

Jack looks away to pick at the table. It's nervous at first, but quickly he's attacking the table out of anger. 

"Sean where are you? Sean when are you coming home? Sean are you okay? Sean, Sean, Sean."

Mark's heart twinges at the bitter venom lacing it's way through Jack's words. 

"I started to hate the name. It felt more like a collar than anything else." The picking at the table becomes more aggressive, successfully removing a small chunk of the wood. At this Mark reaches out and removes Jack's hand from the offending countertop. "And then one day, I snapped. James said my name and I lost it. After that, I was Jack. To them, to others, to myself."

Jack turns to face Mark again. 

With a beer, two shots of Jaeger, and Mark's horrible lightweightedness, Mark's tongue speaks for him. 

"Why Jack?"

Jack offers a charming scoff and eye-roll combination. 

"You'll have to ask James."

The atmosphere has become heavy. Far too heavy in (drunk) Mark's opinion. 

So in hopes of lightening the mood, he says the first thing that comes to his mind.

"When I was ten I wanted to change my name." 

Jack regards him, one eyebrow cocked, and the possibility of a smirk dancing on his lips.

"Oh yeah?" He says, the smirk threatening his lips appearing in his voice. 

"Yep." Mark says with a smile. "I wanted to be Jason. I made everyone call me Jason for like... two months. Thomas had a field day with that one." Mark continues to blabber, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks before Jack interrupts him. 

"Thomas is your brother, right?" 

Mark closes his mouth and nods.

For being a moody enigma, Mark sure does know Jack pretty well... Maybe even better than Jack knows Mark. 

This, Mark feels, is a problem. So he fixes it. 

For the next hour, he doesn't stop talking. About Thomas, his parents, Cincinnati, school, his friends, everything. 

And Jack doesn't say a word. He just drinks quietly (Mark's been cut off and is quickly sobering up) and soaks it all in.

When Mark is out of breath, and information, Jack pays the bill and stands up. 

"You good to walk to the hotel?" Jack asks, genuine concern on his face. 

"Yeah, I wasn't that drunk to begin with." Mark assures, following Jack outside again.

It's quiet, and that surprises Mark.

Until he realizes it's pressing upon 2 o' clock in the morning.

Jack starts walking, presumably, hopefully, towards the hotel, leaving Mark with the only possibility being to follow.

And follow he does. All the way back to the hotel. 

Jack unlocks the door, tosses the room key on the bed and announces he's going to take a shower. 

Mark nods in response before collapsing on his bed, listening as the water starts. At this, Mark sits up, and slips off of the bed, going to change into pyjamas.

The door opens, and Mark looks up at Jack. 

The Irishman is retrieving his toothbrush from his bag when Mark abandons his pyjamas and follows Jack to the bathroom door.

Jack watches him and stares at him lazily. 

Hesitantly, Mark leans down. 

Jack doesn't move. 

Mark closes the distance, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss before pulling back. Wanting, needing, to make sure it's okay. 

Jack touches his lips, watching Mark for an instant before tangling his left hand in Mark's hair and pulling him down for another kiss.

Mark smiles into the kiss, gently pressing Jack into the bathroom door.

Soon enough, there are two hands in Mark's hair, and Jack's toothbrush is long forgotten as the two men's bodies are pressed impossibly close together in the intimacy of the moment. 

When they break for air, Jack's face is tinted pink, and Mark's hair is mussed.

Mark is trying to catch his breath when Jack retrieves his toothbrush, and opens the bathroom door, effectively leaving Mark breathless.

Mark stands there, but only a for a moment before he changes, and slips under the covers. Trying to ignore the speed of his heart, and the buzzing in his lips, and the ringing is his ears as he searches for sleep.

When he does find it, a smile is still present on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will not be every 3 days but will hopefully be more regular than this... Sorry!


	19. A Lesson in Phone Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, it's been a while. I'm SO sorry :0
> 
> If you're reading this thank you so much for sticking with me through all this :P it really means a lot to me :)) 
> 
> Also I apologize for this chapter.
> 
> I really do... Please forgive me...
> 
> However, to make up for... Everything... AND because I'm finally off of school, I've decided to finish this thing up. Only about seven chapters left and I've written three more than this, so we're going to finish this once and for all so I can start the damn prequel thing.
> 
> Call it a Christmas marathon of sorts. Lmao idk.
> 
> So, today I've posted 19, tomorrow I'll post 20, Thursday I'll post 21, Friday I'll post 22, and Saturday I'll post 23, and 24. Then, on Christmas (or the 25th if you don't celebrate) I'll post the epilogue. :) I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Happy Holidays and thank you for sticking with me :)

Miraculously, Mark and Jack both make it to the conference by 8:30. 

This is largely thanks to Jack, who brings Mark coffee when the alarm goes off, and navigates them through the city streets, all the way to the conference centre.

They’re silent as they walk into the overcrowded room. Spotting Peter instantly, and not wanting to be late, Mark weaves through the crowds, assuming Jack will follow. 

And follow he does, but Mark can practically feel the hesitation. 

Mark gives him a small, knowing smile. "Wait here, I'll ask Peter."

Jack shrugs, but Mark knows he's grateful. Smiling to himself, he approaches Peter, waiting for the older man to finish his conversation. 

"Mark! Where's Sean?"

"Jack." Mark corrects automatically.

Peter looks confused. "Pardon?" 

"Never mind." Mark shakes his head. "He's getting coffee." 

Peter nods slowly, as if he's not sure if he truly believes Mark or not. 

"Well," he starts, clearing his throat. "I don't really need you guys for much today, so feel free to explore the conference." 

Mark nods and leaves Peter where he stands, going in search of Jack.

Jack is leaning against a pillar, scrolling through his phone. 

"We're free for the day. Our train's at 7."

Jack looks up, a small lopsided grin on his face. 

It's then, that Mark realizes he’s in way too deep.

***

Mark and Jack almost miss their train. 

Again.

But they don't! They catch it just in the nick of time, and that's all that matters.

Again they sit next to each other, again they share headphones, and again similar music plays into Mark's ears as the two men settle into their seats. 

Once they're settled, Mark turns to watch Jack. The Irishman slowly turns to meet his gaze, the blue of Jack’s irises giving Mark chills. 

And neither of them move. Mark's not even sure if he's breathing. 

The buzzing of Jack’s phone breaks the silence, and Jack turns to it, more than slightly annoyed. Whoever is texting Jack is someone to be ignored, but they also add an extra ferocity to the scowl etched into Jack's countenance. 

Mark waits, hoping the moment will continue. 

But it doesn't. 

So he tries to initiate another one. 

Tentatively, he reaches for Jack's left hand and tries to lace their fingers together. 

The operative word being tried... the moment their hands make contact, Jack pulls away. 

Mark doesn't really have the right to feel the capacity of pain that he's feeling. 

Jack's made it pretty clear that they're not dating. And Mark knows that. But still, he wants it. He thought he was fine with what they had... But he's not. 

He feels that, despite the circumstances, he's allowed to feel this way. 

And with this thought he descends into a sort of numb sleep.

***

Mark wakes to a hand on his shoulder. Naively, he hopes that it's Jack. 

It isn't. It's Peter, waking him up. Jack's seat is empty, his bags are gone, and Mark's still numb. 

So he thanks Peter, stands up, grabs his bag, and leaves. 

He ignores the crick in his neck and the weight of his bags, and the emptiness of his heart. 

And he walks. 

The route is luckily one that he knows so well he can follow mindlessly. 

Which is what he does, because if he thinks, he knows he'll overanalyze, and right now... He just can't. 

His mindless state follows him all the way home, and doesn't leave as he walks up the stairs.

Jack's bag is on his bed, and the sight makes his mind remember and his heart lurch painfully. Ignoring it, he plugs his phone in and collapses on his own bed in exhaustion. He rubs his tired eyes and stands up to unpack.

All of his clothes are rumpled, and don't smell very fresh, so Mark hauls himself off of his bed, and trudges downstairs to the laundry room. The washing machine is thankfully empty, and Mark only has to toss his clothes in the machine and pour soap into the drawer.

The problem? They're out of detergent. 

House rules say if you kill it, you refill it, but whoever killed it didn't bother buying a refill.

Mark's clothes aren't that dirty, and it's not like he'll be wearing them tomorrow. Honestly, he's exhausted, and had he not been trying so hard to keep his mind off of everything, he wouldn't have gone to buy more. 

But he's desperate for a distraction, even if it involves walking a mile to the corner store. 

So he grabs shoes and puts them on mindlessly as he tries to remember the way to the store. 

When he's confident, he opens the door, only to find it's raining. 

Cursing his luck, Mark considers bailing on his plan. He weighs the pros and cons of each option. 

With the circumstances fresh in his mind, he ends up just ducking out into the rain. 

Once he's out there, the deafening silence of the rain hitting the sidewalk is the exact mindless melody Mark needs, and he finds it quite soothing. 

Luckily, it's not cold, and the rain barely bothers Mark.

When he enters the brightly lit store, he receives many stares. At first, he assumes they're simply staring at him because he's soaking wet, but his cheeks quickly redden when he realizes they must remember him from the streaking incident. 

He frowns as he remembers that night. Shaking his head, he ignores the pang in his chest and walks through the store. He picks up the first detergent he sees and hauls it over to the desk. The cashier, an older women with greying hair, gives him a polite, albeit awkward, smile as she rings him up. She announces the price, and Mark pulls out his wallet, given her a few slightly soggy bills. She takes it in stride and hands him the jug of soap. He nods to her with a weak smile before reentering the rain. 

It's still raining, if not harder than before, and once he's outside again, the dark and quiet soothe his senses, taking away his thoughts. 

He thinks of walking home, but his feet take him to the beach. He stands there for a few moments before taking off his shoes and socks and wading into the water. 

It's cold, and for the first time since the train ride, Mark feels something. So he takes a step deeper, and doesnt stop until he's at his chin. He closes his eyes and lets himself float face up in the water. 

The water pounds down mercilessly, slapping against his face and the water, slowly bringing back his senses.

Mark stays this way until the slow undulation of waves have removed all of his cares. 

When he finally drags himself out of the ocean, it's cleared up. The back clouds are parting to reveal a particularly bright moon. 

Entranced, Mark plops into the sand next to the detergent. 

Sighing, he shuts his eyes, resting his tense muscles. He opens them and stares at the sky, leaning back to take in all of the stars in all of their glory. 

He smiles. 

He gets up and goes home. He's no longer dripping, but he's far from dry. 

He tries the door and groans when he realizes it's locked. Frowning, he realizes his keys are upstairs on his bed next to his phone. Sighing, he walks over to the kitchen, searching for the screenless window. Upon finding it he pries open the pane and clambers through, bringing the detergent along with him. 

He shuts the window and straightens up, only to find himself face to face with Remy. 

She raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "Mark...? What the hell?"

Too exhausted to reply, he gestures to the detergent. 

"Mark it's two in the morning, why the hell do you have detergent."

"We ran out and the jerk who finished it didn't replace it." He replies gruffly. 

Remy sighs and rubs her temple. 

"What?" 

She meets his eyes. "Mark you were the one to finish off the detergent." 

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Feeling foolish Mark trudges into the laundry room. Suddenly lacking the energy to do his laundry he places the detergent on the machine and trudges upstairs. He takes off his damp clothing and throws them in a pile. 

He's barely pulled on a dry shirt when Jack's phone begins to ring. Mark ignores it and snuggles under the covers. 

By the seventh time the person calls, Mark's ready to get up and turn it off. 

Before he can though, the door slams open and an irritated Jack snatches up the phone.

"Leave the fuck alone Conor." Jack snarls before hanging up and tossing the phone on his bed. And with that, the Irishman slams the door again and disappears. 

Mark blinks and looks at the spot where Jack was merely two seconds before. 

Shaking his head, he rolls over on his side and goes to sleep.


	20. A Lesson in Showering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Day 2 of the marathon, or 'Christmas Miracle' as the wonderful PepperPan called it. 
> 
> Thank you guys for all the love, especially since I don't deserve it after leaving you all for so long. :( 
> 
> Thanks for sticking by me, and I hope this one makes up for the depressing chapter yesterday :)
> 
> 2 down, 5 to go.

Mark is asleep for less than an hour when he hears a crash outside of their shared door. 

Groggily, he sits up and rubs his eyes, checking the time on his phone. Blinking twice to turn the blurred blobs into actual numbers, Mark reads the digitized print. 

3:04.

Groaning, he slides out of bed to go and investigate the cause of the noise. 

His efforts find Jack in the landing above the stairs swearing. 

Blinking, Mark realizes Jack must have fallen up the stairs. 

Bending down to help Jack up, Mark can’t help but be overwhelmed by the strong stench of alcohol coming off of Jack. Shaking his head, he lifts the other boy up, and carries him all the way over to the bathroom. He sits him down on the toilet seat, and goes to turn on the water. Waiting for the water to heat up, Mark regards the Irishman. Looking at him is less painful than he expected. 

But maybe that’s because Jack is drunk, and Jack isn’t his true self when under the influence. Meaning his eyes are clouded over, and don’t seem to xray Mark every time he meets them. Meaning his lips are in a complacent smile, something you’d never find on a sober Jack.  
Meaning this Jack is barely even real. 

Mark looks away.

Turning, he places his hand under the stream of water to gauge the temperature. It’s warm enough. 

Spinning to face Jack once more, Mark hauls the other man onto his feet. 

“Undress and get in the shower.”

Jack obliges with no complaint, slipping off his jeans, shirt, shoes, socks, and finally underwear. Mark doesn’t look as he guides Jack into the shower basin. Moments later, just as Mark’s tired eyelids are betraying him, there’s a thump. Alarmed, Mark stands to find out what happened. 

Jack has slipped. The Irishman makes no move to stand, and in frustration, Mark takes off his socks and slips into the shower in his boxers and shirt. He hauls Jack to his feet once more, and reaches for the shampoo. When he’s got a good sized dollop in his hand, he turns to wash Jack’s hair. He’s interrupted however, by a sloppy kiss on the lips, courtesy of Jack. Mark pries him off with one hand, and works to wash Jack’s vibrant locks. 

Jack allows it, but only for a moment before he leans in to kiss Mark’s jaw, and then his neck. 

Mark shoves him off again, his resolve weakening every moment they're in the shower together. 

When he's sure all of the suds are gone, Mark turns off the water and steps out of the shower, helping Jack out as well.

At this point, Mark wonders if alcohol is the only culprit. A cold shower usually helps to sober people up, but right now, at this moment in time, Jack is no more sober than he was pre-shower. 

Although he smells much better. 

As Mark throws the Irishman a towel, Jack giggles. 

Actually giggles. Mark didn't think he'd ever use that word in describing Jack, but yet here they are. 

Mark shakes his head and helps Jack change into pajamas. 

By now, Jack has mellowed. He's stopped giggling (thank the lord) and he's mostly cooperative. He allows Mark to guide him into bed, and actually falls asleep soon after. Mark sighs, exhausted and wet. He changes into dry clothes and goes to the kitchen to retrieve an aspirin and some water.

He places them on Jack’s bedside table before crawling to his own bed and slipping in.

It's cold, but Mark is too tired to complain. He lets out a sigh and pulls the duvet to his ears before shifting onto his side. Unfortunately, sleep does not find him as easily as it found Jack. 

Mark’s mind is racing. All the things he had been trying to ignore suddenly whizz around in his brain at 90mph. 

There was of course… the incident. Mark physically shakes his head, trying to remove all evidence of the memory. Mark knows he should be upset, angry even. But he can't find it in himself. He just feels… empty. He feels rejected. But then again, he was just rejected, wasn't he? He had only wanted to hold Jack’s hand… was that too much to ask? Maybe it was too much for Jack to give. Mark shakes his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. Jack cares about him. He knows it. He feels it. Mark rolls onto his back and rubs his temple. He tries to tell himself that this isn't worth the headache.

But he knows that that's wrong. This is very much worth the headache. Jack is worth the headache. 

The heartache though…

***

Mark wakes up before Jack does. Which still feels weird.

Mark ignores it and goes to shower.

One of the other tenants is in there, so Mark waits outside patiently, checking his email and texts. 

When the door opens, a cloud of steam enters the hallway, and a tall man exits the bathroom, offering Mark a nod. Richard, Mark thinks his name is. He doesn't ponder it for long though, eager to shower and get to work. 

The water is warm, and Mark tries not to think about the events of last night. 

It doesn't work very well. 

***

By the time Mark is back in their joint room, Jack is sitting up in his bed. He looks like a zombie, pale and half-dead. His clouded eyes move slowly to Mark, meeting him dead in the eye. 

Mark blinks, unnerved by Jack’s power of X-Ray vision even when hungover. 

Mark offers a limp smile before going over to put on socks. 

Jack stays in bed for several more minutes before sliding out and dressing himself. He runs a hand through his unkempt hair, and follows behind Mark as they make their way into the kitchen. Jack is slow, and he's a bit hunched over, but Mark suspects he will be fine. 

By some struck of luck, someone has already made coffee, and all Mark has to do is pour. He hands a mug to Jack who accepts it gratefully. Well, as gratefully as someone who’s dreadfully hungover can be. 

They walk to work at a snail’s pace, Jack looking like he might pass out, and Mark looking like he might fall asleep. 

Numbly Mark wonders if Jack remembers anything about last night. Sneaking a look at Jack’s profile, Mark watches, trying to worm his way into Jack’s head. 

If Jack realizes Mark is staring, he doesn't call him out on it. 

***

No one says anything when they arrive a few minutes late, and Mark makes a beeline for their lists, handing over Jack’s as he scans his own. 

It's fairly short, and Mark sets off to work right away. 

Jack however, is distracted. He's constantly checking his phone, and he seems to be on edge. Every time he gets a notification he tenses, as if bracing himself for a blow. 

By lunch he's stopped checking enough to eat half of a sandwich. 

Mark is quiet today, and Jack notices. Ice blue eyes bored in Mark’s brown ones. 

“What.” 

Mark shakes his head. “Nothing.” He says simply. Half because he's too exhausted to even talk, let alone hash out his feelings, and half because it's true. It really isn't anything. Mark is hurt, possibly rightfully, possibly not. They're not dating, maybe Jack’s not interested in anything other than what they've been doing.

Not that Mark would know as they never talk about it. 

And now is no time to start. 

They both toss out their trash and get back to work. 

***

By the end of the day, Mark is over it. It happened, Mark's not gonna dwell on it. 

Which is honestly a new concept to Mark. 

But it makes sense. After hours of analyzing, and overanalyzing, Mark's come to the conclusion that while Mark does feel rejected, he also realizes that what he's asking for is just something that Jack can't give him right now. And well... Mark knew this when he got into it. And he knows that this will probably end up just hurting more in the long run, but for now... He'll take it.

He's fine with their arrangement.

In fact he likes it. 

He likes it even better when Jack presses him into the pink door in their room and kisses him again, this time sober and reciprocated. 

No longer weighed down by the ‘incident’ Mark kisses back fervently, and wraps his fingers around Jack’s wrists. 

Mark can feel his pulse. It's steady. Mark smiles into the kiss and releases Jack’s wrists and allowing the other man to tangle his fingers in Mark’s hair. 

For now, Mark doesn't need answers. 

For now he's content to kiss and ask questions later. 

For now.


	21. A Lesson in the Side Effects of Tequila

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry I posted later than usual (do I even have a 'usual'? Probably not. Whatever, you get what I mean) I wrote this in the morning and the wifi crashed. 
> 
> But here it is! 1,500 words of pure trash. 
> 
> Lol. I just want to tell everyone to strap in tight and keeps all limbs inside the cart because the rollercoaster is about to start. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you all for the sweet comments and for all of the love and support it really means so much to me :)) 
> 
> 3 down, 4 to go!

Mark is surprised.

For one thing, things between Jack and him are... not awkward at all. Which is surprising considering not too long ago there was the incident, and then the shower incident, both of which have been burned into Mark's brain. 

Anyway, Jack hasn't been treating Mark any differently, and so Mark has been following suit.

However, (almost) more surprising than that is the fact that today marks the end of their 2nd month. 

To be honest, Mark hadn't even realized how long they'd been there. It felt like yesterday that he met Jack in their little attic room...

In fact, he's only informed of this fun fact when Mark is called into Peter's office on Friday morning. 

Perplexed, Mark enters, unsure of what to expect. 

Peter beckons him in, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. "Sit down, son."

Mark obliges, still unsure of why he's in there. The panic is quick to set in, making his stomach swirl around uncomfortably. 

"So Mark. Two months. Isn't that hard to believe?" 

Mark barely contains his relief.

"Anyway, I just called you in here to tell you how absolutely pleased I am with your work here. In fact, one of your pictures is being published!"

Months ago, Mark would have been melting at this praise from Peter. But now? After seeing his treatment of Jack? The compliment means next to nothing to Mark. 

"Thank you, sir. It's been really great working here." 

Peter grins. "Good. I'll be sad to lose you!"

Mark thanks him profusely before leaving and going to retrieve Jack. 

Jack stops working when Mark comes over to his desk. 

"Hey, Peter's just checking in with us, and he asked for you to meet him in his office."

Jack scowls but thanks Mark as he walks over to Peter's office. 

***

Mark doesn't see Jack's face when he leaves Peter's office, but he can't image he's wearing anything but a contemptuous expression.

***

When they're walking out to lunch, Jack doesn't stop at their table and continues to walk. Curious, Mark follows. When they stop, they're in some alley behind a store. They meet eyes for a moment before Jack leans up to kiss Mark. 

This kiss is quick, presumably Jack is asking for permission. 

Mark responds by kissing Jack again, and pressing him against the brick wall of the building. 

***

When they finally break away from each other, Mark's lips are numb, and they have only two mere minutes to get back on time. Mark rushes back, running his fingers through his hair in a desperate, albeit lame, attempt to tame his hair.

Jack disappears, presumably to do the same thing. 

***

When the end of the day rolls around, Mark is exhausted. 

Having a photo submitted to a magazine doesn't make you exempt from paperwork, apparently. 

Who knew. 

Mark's hand is crampy, and all he wants to do is curl up with some warm food and watch Netflix until he falls asleep. 

Unfortunately, Mark had already made plans with Remy, promising her they'd go out to the bar tonight. 

Mark would ask to reschedule, but he actually convinced Remy and Jack to knowingly (and willingly) hang out with each other, and he's not sure if he'll ever be able to swing that again. 

And so, he showers and gets dressed, meeting Jack and Remy at the bottom of the stairs. They walk to the bar together, making almost not totally uncomfortable small talk.

Mark considers it a huge success. 

When they arrive, it's fairly packed for a night in Cape Evelynn, even if it's a Friday night.

"Looks like there's some sort of party going on." Mark mutters as they enter the bar. The place is decorated no more or less festively than usual, but it is full to the brim. 

Remy laughs. "I think you may be right! You guys go get a table, I'll grab drinks." And with that she disappears into the crowd, leaving Mark and Jack with no option but to wade through the sea of people and score a table. 

Somehow, they do. 

They manage to steal a booth in the far back corner, and Mark slips in on one side. Jack hesitates, but slides into the spot across from Mark. 

Jack's gaze is hooded, but still remarkably intense. 

Mark opens his mouth to say something but Jack beats him to it. 

"So. How long do you think Remy will stay with us before she ditches."

It's a question, and it's probably kind of a nasty one seeing as Jack and Remy aren't friends, but with all Remy's said, Mark figures if he lets it slide, then they're closer to being even. 

So Mark just offers a small chuckle and a smile. 

And after that they sit in silence. 

Remy comes back, offering them both a beer and plopping herself down. She begins to speak, and at first Mark listens, but soon, he looks up at Jack and kind of zones out.

She talks for a while. How long, Mark doesn't know. He's brought out of his gaze by a gentle kick to his ankle. He starts and looks up to Jack. 

"Where's Remy?" He asks, looking around in a daze. 

Jack smirks, not unkindly. "She left a minute ago. Only lasted about three minutes before she got bored and left."

"Oh." Mark replies, not disappointed, just disoriented.

"Yeah." Jack replies, breaking their gaze to take a sip of his drink. 

Mark blinks a few times before taking a sip of his own. 

"I don't think Remy's coming home with us." Jack says, jabbing his finger in Remy's direction. 

"Probably not." Mark agrees.

"So. Wanna get out of here?" 

Mark grins. "Lead the way." 

***

They end up at an old playground. Mark knows of its existence, but never before has he taken the chance to admire it.

Maybe admire isn't the right word... It's pretty pathetic actually. A metal slide, a couple swings, and monkey bars. 

Jack sits down on a swing and rocks back a bit, testing the structure. 

It's sturdy enough, bar a few creaks. 

Mark joins him. 

They stay silent, swinging back in forth on the rickety set. 

Looking up at Jack, Mark finds himself locking eyes with the Irishman. Then, with determination, he gets up bends down in front of Jack, and kisses him. 

He half expects Jack to pull away, but he doesn't so Mark deepens the kiss. Jack responds instantly under Mark's touch, and just as Mark is about to pull back, Jack pulls Mark onto his lap and tangles his fingers in Mark's hair. 

Mark can feel himself smiling as his heart rate speeds up. 

He's in way too deep. 

***

When they finally do break off, Mark's hair is mussed and Jack's lips are pink. 

Neither of them say anything, but Jack's expression is borderline peaceful. 

Looking at the half-cocked smile, Mark is afraid is heart is going to burst. 

***

Mark doesn't know how much time has passed, but Jack stands up and dusts himself off. 

"I gotta take a piss." 

And with those words he wanders off. 

Mark finds himself smiling as he watches the man's form disappear into the darkness. 

Bored, he moves himself over and plops down onto the slide. The metal is cold against his legs, but he doesn't really mind. 

Leaning backwards, he hears footsteps. He sits up to investigate and finds Remy walking along the street. 

"Remy," he calls out, watching her turn around and walk over to him, a stupid grin on her face. 

"Hey there big boy." She says, shooting finger guns at him. Mark rolls his eyes at her obvious intoxication. 

"Hey Remy. You on your way home?"

"Yep." She chirps, popping the p. 

"Sorry to have left you at the bar, we didn't think you'd be coming home with us." He apologizes. 

She grins and licks her lips. "You can make it up to me." 

Before Mark can even ask 'How?' Remy is pressing her lips against his in a sloppy drunken kiss. After the surprise, Mark gently pushes her away. 

"There." She says grinning. "Even. Oh, and Mark?"

Mark looks at her dizzily. "Yeah?"

"Don't let me ever drink tequila again." 

And with those parting words, Mark is left alone with his thoughts. 

Inside his head is a jumble of thoughts and worries all fighting for dominance. 

The one currently winning is 'How the hell do I tell Jack about this?'

He takes a deep breath and looks up, his breath catching and his heart stopping.

Looks like he won't have to.


	22. A Lesson in Playing Hooky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I had one job, and I messed it up. Idek how, but I messed up the posting schedule, so today you're getting three whole updates. Yay! 
> 
> Also: a friend and I were thinking of doing a comic version of this fic after the prequel. Would that interest people? Yes no? Lemme know. 
> 
> Anyway, strap yourselves in for a day of updates.
> 
> Here's the first. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It's been a week, and things aren't awkward. 

Which is... Surprising, to say the least. 

To an outsider, they probably didn't look any different. They still walked to work together, ate lunch together, walked home together etc. But to Mark, it was like going back time to two months ago.

Jack is just like he was when Mark met him. 

Every single wall that Mark had worked to get past seem to have been reset. 

He's back at square one. 

***

Mark soon realizes he's not at square one. He's somewhere way behind that.

At least at the beginning Jack was still his normal sarcastic self, but now he is just eerily quiet. 

Mark misses the way things were. He does. And no matter how hard he works to get things back to the way they used to be, things aren't changing. 

And soon Mark gives up because being around this Jack is almost painful. 

And so when Remy offers to hang out, he doesn't decline. He feels a little bit like a traitor, but for the most part, it's just nice to be able to laugh with someone again. 

And gradually, they begin to hang out more. And it's actually kind of nice. 

Remy is easier to be around. Her company is less rewarding, and he often finds himself missing Jack, and sometimes he totally zones out on what she's saying, but altogether it's nice. 

***

"Okay, I'm JUST saying that if you found a person in your attic, it would mean they would've broken into your house, and hidden up there." 

Mark laughs and shakes his head. "Yeah but roaches are so gross. And 1,000 of them? Just... No. Also, they breed like crazy and are impossible to kill."

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a pussy."

Mark laughs until the people at the next table shoot them both a dirty look and the two smother their grins.

Currently, it's Friday night, and the two are out to dinner. The restaurant is pretty nice, and the constant snickering from the two is not well received, but Mark can't find it in himself to care.

For the first time in almost two weeks Mark's heart feels close to being full with happiness. Maybe it's Remy. Maybe he should ask her out. Maybe he should-

The thought is interrupted by a quick buzz of Mark's phone.

Absently, Mark pulls it out to check. 

"Hey no phones at the table." Remy chides, reaching over and snatching it. Moments later her grin grows. "Oh it's from your pit bull. He wants to know where you are."

Mark feels his heart speed up. "Did he say why?"

Remy grins and slides the phone across the table back to Mark. "Dunno, you better get home and find out."

"But what about dinner?" 

"This place is lame anyway. Let's bail."

Mark shakes his head as Remy grabs her jacket and walks towards the door. He can't help but laugh as he follows her out.

***

Mark tries not to seem to eager, but he can't help but walk slightly faster than normal. By the time he arrives at the house he's a bit out of breath and his heart is racing. 

Taking off his shoes, Mark tries to calm his heart before taking the stairs two at a time. 

Outside their door, he hesitates, unsure of himself. Ignoring the anxiety in his stomach, he opens the door to their room, finding Jack sprawled on his bed, much like their first day. 

Jack sees Mark and stands up slowly. 

"Hey." He begins, eyeing Mark. "You look like you were in the middle of something."

Mark waves him off. "What's up."

Jack hesitates. "It's not important, sorry to call you away."

"Jack what is it." 

"I just," He runs his hand through his hair. "Look I'm sorry for being an asshole. We never really said if we're exclusive or not... So yeah. Whatever. You can do whatever you want."

"Jack?"

"What."

"Remy was drunk and kissed me, I'm not interested in her."

Jack looks a bit surprised. "Oh." It's obvious he wasn't expecting the conversation to go this way. 

"What were you doing."

"Oh, I was just watching a movie."

Mark gives him a look. "Which one."

Jack's surprised look turns into a smirk. "Wanna find out." 

Mark grins and slides next to Jack on the bed. 

Looks like they're watching Star Wars.

That's fine with Mark. 

***

After a while, Jack starts in with his own cynical commentary. Mark finds himself laughing, and within only a few minutes of being with Jack, he feels happier than he did during a full week with Remy. 

But it's only when Jack falls asleep on his shoulder that Mark realizes he could never ask Remy out. 

He's in too deep.

*** 

Mark ends up being too tired to move to his own bed, and the last thing he wants to do is wake up Jack, so he just closes his eyes, and waits for sleep to take him. 

***

Saturday morning, Mark wakes up with a kink in his neck, and something very warm partially on top of him. Opening his sleep crusted eyes, he finds Jack still very much asleep on his shoulder. 

Despite the pain in his neck, Mark feels himself smiling. He tries to get out of bed without waking Jack, and actually succeeds, wandering downstairs for breakfast. 

It's one of the rare times the house is empty. 

Mark takes the opportunity to make himself an omelet. There's not a lot in the fridge, so he makes a mental note to go shopping, and scrounges up what he can. 

Jack comes downstairs towards the end of the process, fully showered and awake. He works on coffee while Mark serves the omelet. They eat in silence. 

But unlike the past few days, it's not because they don't want to talk, but instead because they don't need to. 

From under the table, Jack's ankle links around Mark's. 

And Mark smiles, because he knows they're gonna be fine.

***

By Thursday, it's like the whole thing never happened. 

Better than that, it did, they talked about it, and it's no longer an issue. 

While Mark's getting ready Jack is searching for his camera.

"Taking pictures after work?"

Jack doesn't look up. "More like during." 

Mark pauses to watch Jack for a moment. 

"Where are you going?"

"Three bus stops away." 

Mark grins and shakes his head. "I can't believe you're gonna ditch work."

Jack finally finds his camera and packs it up. "Is it really all that surprising?"

Mark shakes his head, a small grin on his face. 

"Wanna come?"

Mark's heart stops. 

"And skip work with you."

Jack immediately looks like he regrets asking, but before Jack can take it back, Mark makes up his mind. 

"Let me grab my jacket."

***

Mark feels kind of guilty for skipping work, but he also knows that there's been a serious lack of work for him to do lately, so he probably won't be missed. 

Plus he sent an email to Peter telling him he was sick. 

Jack quickly takes his mind off of it. 

"It's raining." Mark says, trying to wipe drops off of his glasses. 

"That's the whole point Fishbach. Follow me." 

And Mark does. 

***

The bus is empty, so Mark could easily sit a good distance from Jack. But it's also freezing as hell, so he doesn't. 

He plops down next to Jack (practically on top of actually) and when he gets no rebuke sidles up even closer. 

Hesitantly, Jack releases the tension from his body, and the two ride in a comfortable closeness.

***

True to Jack's word, the place is only three bus stops away. 

However, that's not including the walk. Jack leads him through a small town, a slightly larger forest, and finally to a set of cliffs overlooking the ocean. 

It's still raining, but the cliffs look stunning. 

"Nature shots, a bit unusual for you."

Jack looks up with a shrug. "People here started noticing the camera. Figured I'd take a break for a while." 

"Cool." Mark says with a genuine smile. 

Jack gives him something that resembles a smile, before going to set up his camera. 

Mark feels his heart surge a little bit. 

*** 

Towards the end, Jack and Mark are walking along a street, presumably back to the bus stop, when Mark sees a puddle. 

With his heart so full, and Jack by his side, Mark feels a childish urge to jump in it. 

So he does. 

And Jack snorts, but Mark can see his smile as he snaps a photo.

Mark rolls his eyes but motions for the camera. Jack hesitates ever so slightly, before handing it over. 

Mark grins and Jack looks down as well. The picture of Mark jumping in the puddle is a good one, and when Mark looks up to tell Jack so, he realizes how close they are. Jack could easily kiss Mark, and with the way his eyes are staring at Mark's lips, Mark thinks he might. 

But then he doesn't, he pulls away. 

"Bus is here." He grunts, putting his camera away as he gets on. Mark chews his lip before following suit. 

Mark sits a safe distance away from Jack, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes. 

However, they fly open, when a calloused hand moves to grab his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got my Check Please reference, High fives to you my dude, and please comment which team you're on.
> 
> If you didn't oh my lanta PLEASE go check it out, I'll just leave a link for you ;) 
> 
> http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/57705111693
> 
> I don't know if links actually work on Ao3, so if they don't just google "Check Please #1" and just keep searching until you find it. AHHH so good.


	23. A Lesson in Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me

Mark is having a hard time believing that he's been in Cape Evelynn for 10 weeks, and an even harder time accepting that he'll be leaving in only two. 

Heavy thoughts for a Friday morning, Mark supposes, but he needs to face it sooner or later.

He showers and dresses, and by the time he's in the kitchen, he decides he'll face them later. Because how can he think about leaving when he's starting to love everything about being here? 

Jack gives him a weird look as he gives Mark his mug. Mark places his mug on the counter, then Jack's, and then kisses the Irishman, hoping the kiss will convey exactly how Mark feels.

Mark isn't sure if it's worked or not, but when he pulls away Jack pulls him back down for another kiss.

They end up being late for work. 

***

Mark's stupid grin lasts only until they get to the office, for the moment they arrive Peter beckons Jack into his office. 

For some reason, Mark has a feeling this isn't a check in. 

Fortunately for Mark, before he can start to worry about it, he's pulled into a meeting. 

The meeting lasts all morning, and Mark has no idea what happened during the meeting, the only thing he knows is that Jack is scowling so ferociously Mark is afraid it will become permanent. 

Hesitantly, Mark sits down at his own desk. He opens his mouth to say something but promptly shuts it. Jack will want space. If Mark has learned anything in these past 10 weeks, it's that. 

So Mark gives it to him. 

***

Maybe he gave a bit too much space. 

Or maybe not enough? 

Mark can't understand why Jack is ignoring him. It started at lunch with Jack leaving without Mark. It continued when he left work without Mark. And has finished now that Mark is home and Jack is not.

So Mark tries not to let it get to him. Mark knows he has done nothing, and concludes it must have been something Peter said. 

As the hours tick by without Jack, Mark feels less guilty, and more worried about the other man. In hopes of clearing his mind he goes to take pictures. 

The night is clear, and the stars brighter than Mark has ever seen them. He doesn't usually take pictures of the stars, (both because he's bad at it and finds it a bit unoriginal) but tonight it seems criminal not to. Plus he wants to kill time. So he brings a blanket, puts the camera into night mode and then calculates the exposure time. And he waits. 

***

The pictures come out alright. By the time he's done he's too cold to really appreciate them. So he packs everything up and begins the trek home. 

Even now Jack isn't home. 

Mark snuggles under his covers with his back to Jack's bed.

***

Sleeping in, Mark wakes up to streams of sunlight on his face. Yawning, he sits up and stretches. He turns to look at Jack's bed, only to find that it's empty. In fact Mark can't even tell if it's been slept in or not.

But he doesn't let it phase him, and walks downstairs and makes breakfast like its business as usual.

***

By Saturday night Mark is annoyed. 

By Sunday he's worried. 

So he does the only thing can think of, and goes for a walk. It's cold, and drizzling and the weather kind of mirrors Mark's mood to be honest. The feeling of having been cut off so quickly and for no good reason is worse than anything Mark could have ever imagined. 

The walk doesn't really take his mind off of anything. 

***

Monday morning marks the third day sans Jack, and it's taking a toll on Mark more than he'd like to admit. 

But he supposes it's fairly obvious since Remy asks about it. 

"Hey, what's up with you Mr. Poutyface." She asks as she slides into the seat next to him. "Did your pit bull run away?"

Mark sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. "Jack's ignoring me and I have absolutely no idea why."

Remy offers a sympathetic face. "Hey, I'm sorry Mark." She pats his arm in a way that strikes Mark as very platonic. 

"Thanks Remy."

She smiles at him and slaps his cheek. "Feel free to mope all day, but if you're going to, you should do it at work, otherwise you'll be late."

Mark groans. "Shit, I'll see you later."

"Have a good day! Good luck with your pit bull!" 

***

When Mark gets to work, he decides he's not going to even think about Jack. 

That lasts until Mark sits down and sees that Jack is MIA. 

He tries to push it out of his mind, but the questions keep popping up. Where is Jack? Why is he skipping work? Is it because of Mark? Is he coming back? 

Opening his laptop, Mark feels his stomach begin to churn uncomfortably. 

He has a feeling it's not going to be a particularly productive day. 

*** 

Mark was right. He barely finishes his list, and it takes all of his energy to do it. 

By the time he's home, he's drained, confused, and more than a little bit hurt. 

***

Tuesday, Jack doesn't return. Mark works a little harder. Life gets a little easier. 

Wednesday, Mark doesn't even bother to look at the desk next to him. 

***

When Mark wakes up on Thursday morning, it's to his alarm and not to the sound of Jack tripping or slamming the door, or anything because Jack is still MIA. 

And he's still not over it, so he resolved to ask Peter. 

Mark doesn't end up getting the chance, for the moment he sits down, he's subject to Jake's idiotic rantings. 

"Yeah! Oh! Hey, Mark! Where's Sean? Did the leprechaun go back across his rainbow to his pot of gold." 

Mark doesn't know what's coming over him. Maybe it's Jack's influence, or a combination of all the shit he's been through, but either way, there's an anger rising up in his chest. 

And suddenly, he snaps.

"Hey Jake, I know you have to make up for your sucky personality and general lack of any positive qualities somehow, but maybe leave the clever comebacks to people with an IQ higher than 13, yeah?" And with that he nods, and walks over to his desk. 

Only when he sits down does he realize that he's shaking. Laughing a bit he powers on his laptop. 

Remembering his plan to get answers, he begins working on a mental speech. Unfortunately he's called into Peter's office before he can finish.

He's nervous, and worried, and a little bit curious because he has absolutely no idea what to expect. 

So he takes a deep breath, works to compose himself and marches into Peter's office. 

"Mark, sit down." Peter says with a smile. 

Mark isn't sure if that's a good sign or not. 

"Please." He says, motioning to the chair. 

Mark complies. 

"So I imagine you have questions, but please let me explain." Peter looks at Mark like he expects pushback. Mark says nothing. "When Sean first sent in his application I was intrigued. I had heard the name, and seen some of his work, so I did some research and happened upon some of his uh, 'earlier work' if you will. So I sent him an email and let him know the place was his if he wanted it. The response was not positive. So I continued to look through the submissions and found yours, and emailed you. However, not a week later do I get an email from Sean asking if the spot is still open. Now, you have to understand that this was highly unprofessional, and had it been anyone else I wouldn't even have bothered responding. But Sean, well he intrigued me, so I took a chance with him." 

Mark feels his breath catch, he doesn't like the way this is going. 

"And unfortunately that turned out to be a mistake. Sean is talented, sure, but he doesn't apply himself, has a poor attitude, and is generally not useful to this company. So I'm sending him home." 

Mark blinks, trying to recover from the shock. "Sir, but there's only a week or so left." 

Peter raises a sharp eyebrow. "Listen Mark, I've had enough of my time wasted. I don't intend to waste anymore. His plane leaves tonight."

Mark blinks twice, then stands abruptly and runs out of the office. 

His heart is pounding. He's going to be in trouble, but he doesn't care. All he can think about is Jack. 

How could Mark have ever looked up to an asshole like Peter?

***

Mark makes it home in record time and sprints up the stairs, bursting into their shared room. 

For the first time in five days, is Jack, lying on his bed with his feet on his suitcase. The Irishman slowly sits up, and the two lock eyes. Carefully, Jack removes his earbuds.

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that Jack?"


	24. A Lesson in Solutions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... The last one before the epilogue. :((( I'm gonna miss this y'all. 
> 
> Anyway, we still have the epilogue!! 
> 
> Y'all have a very nice holiday season and thank you all so much for your constant support :) <3

Jack gives a weak grin. "Hearing you swear is weird."

"Not the time Jack. What the hell is going on." Mark hates to snap, but he's worried. The straw has officially broken the camel's back. 

Jack's countenance morphs to an expression of apathy. "Peter said he was done wasting his time with me."

Mark shakes his head, his heart panging painfully. "Why didn't you tell me. And why have you been avoiding me." He's quieter now. The pain in his heart and Jack's eyes making it harder and harder to speak. 

Jack shrugs and crosses his arms. 

"That's not good enough Jack." He says softly, because it isn't. He needs words, an explanation, a reason, just something.

Jack's eyes snap up to meet Mark's, a silent fury in them. "Because you're starting to mean something to me and I didn't think I'd be able to leave while you were smiling at me all the damn time."

Mark's heart surges, and the words echo in his mind. That wasn't the response he was expecting... But then again, what was he expecting? He doesn't know, he can't think straight. His mind and heart seem to be racing each other, going far faster than should be humanly possible and neither of them show any signs of slowing. 

Mark looks up to Jack. The Irishman stares back. 

"So what are you going to do." This time Mark's voice is barely a whisper. Almost soothing. It's true that he's mad, and that they have so many things they need to work on, but right now Mark needs to figure out a way that Jack is around to work on them.

"I don't know. Fuck." Jack's voice cracks and he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends. Mark can hear the pain in his voice.

"Do you want to stay?"

Jack's eyes snap up to meet Mark's. 

"Do you?"

Jack doesn't blink. "Yes." 

Mark whirls around and dashes out of the room. The pieces are all fitting together. He can fix this, he can work this out, Jack can stay.

Jack wants to stay. 

Jack cares about Mark. 

Mark can make this work.

***

He finds Remy in the driveway under her car. 

"Remy."

Her voice comes out muffled and Mark doesn't quite catch it. 

"Remy!" 

There's a few more muffled sounds, presumably Remy cursing Mark as she pulls herself from out underneath the car. 

"What?"

"Do you feel bad about what you said to Jack?"

"Of course."

Mark's heart is beating a mile a minute. "You want to make it up to him."

"Yes." She asks, standing up slowly to meet Mark's gaze. 

"I know your uncle's paying for our stay, and he's about to stop paying for Jack, but let him stay rent free. Please. It's only a week."

Remy crosses her arms. "You're serious about this?"

Mark nods. 

"Alright then. It's not like I was gonna rent out his bed or anything."

***

Mark wastes no time running up the stairs to tell Jack. 

"You can stay." 

Jack head snaps up. "What?"

"Remy, she said you could stay. And you already have your return ticket for next week, right?" 

Jack is watching Mark, and it makes Mark hesitate. 

"You do still wanna stay right?"

Before Mark can say anything else, Jack is leaning in and kissing him. The kiss is warm, and intense, and makes Mark's cheeks heat up. 

When Jack pulls back, he stays close, leaning his forehead against the half-Korean. 

"Mark."

"Yeah?" He replies, a bit breathless. 

"Thanks."

Mark almost wants to look up. "For what."

"For giving a shit about me. You're one of the few." 

Mark can tell that it's hard for Jack to say. Jack isn't a talker, he doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, and he certainly doesn't just freely talk about his emotions. And so Mark feels the warmth in his body spread. He feels trusted, and loved, and he can't think of anything else to say, so he just kisses back and hopes Jack understands. 

He adds "you're welcome." Just in case.

*** 

They're sitting on their respective beds, facing each other. 

This conversation is long due, and it's a good time to have it. 

"So we never really gave this a label, and labels don't really make things easier, but I feel like they would offer some... Clarification?"

Jack snorts. "Sorry, it just feels like I'm having a disciplinary meeting." He sighs. "Look, I have no experience with this kind of thing, so you take the lead."

"Well I think..." Mark hesitates. What does he want? "I think I'd like a relationship, and I get it if that's not something you can offer but I think it's what I want." 

Jack picks at the table. "I'm not saying no, I'm just... Look I suck at his kind of thing, and I've really never done it before, but..." He hesitates. "I'm willing to give it a shot." 

***

Mark is warm. 

Partially because of the bonfire, but partially because Jack's by his side. 

Well technically, he's currently sitting in Jack's lap, kissing him fervently. 

He's covered in sand, they both are, but somehow it doesn't matter. 

Jack gets to stay. And even if it's only a week, and maybe it was more work than it was work, Jack gets to stay. Moreover, he wants to. And he cares about Mark. 

They have things to work out, but for now, everything is perfect. 

They're together, on the beach, with a bonfire, the stars, and most of all each other for company. 

Finally, Mark breaks the kiss and lies down on the sand with a sigh of contentment. 

Jack leans down next to him and turns on his side to run his fingers through Mark's hair. 

"Why did you go through all the trouble."

Mark looks up into Jack's eyes. "Hm?"

"I mean, I didn't really handle things well, and you went through all that trouble just so I could stay a week longer."

"Wasn't that much work."

Jack shoots him a look. "But why, is my question." 

Mark props himself on his elbow. "Because you're worth it. Because I swear sometimes you're the only person that can make me smile. Because sometimes you're really difficult, but you always make it worth it." 

Jack snickers. "Jesus that was sappy."

Mark scoffs. "You asked." 

"You're worth it too." 

Mark smiles and kisses Jack on the lips quickly, and then does it again. 

Jack tangles his fingers in Mark's hair and Mark knows they're on the right track.


	25. The Epilogue: A Lesson in Surprise Visits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 36,377 words   
> It's really just sinking in now guys. This is over. This was my project for so long, and I'm just so baffled about how much support it got. Like, it's just setting in that this has been clicked on (Accidentally or on purpose) 4,158 times, 385 people liked it enough to give it a kudos, you guys have commented on this 207 times, and 38 of you have bookmarked. 
> 
> In case you don't know how much this means to me, I'll tell you: It means so effing much. Seriously, it means so much I don't even know how to put it into words. I am so grateful to each and every one of you, I can't even explain it. Just thank you so so so much. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me during the hiatus, and for standing by this rollercoaster of a story, and for your never ending support. 
> 
> Just thank you so fucking much. 
> 
> I'm actually tearing up writing this author's note, so I'm just going to end it now. 
> 
> Thank you thank you thank thank you THANK YOU!!!!

Jack is more nervous than he thought he'd be. It's been almost three months since he's seen Mark in person. Sure they text every day, and Skype a lot, but it's not the same. There's a section in Jack's mind telling him it won't ever be the same, that Mark will have grown tired of him. It reminds him that Mark could really do so much better. 

Jack takes a deep breath and tries to listen to the other part of his brain. The part that reminds him how patient and forgiving Mark is. 

He takes a deep breath and decides to listen to the positive argument. 

Glass half full, kind of thing. 

Yeah the visit is a surprise, on Christmas Eve no less, and there's oh so many things that could go horribly wrong, but he also knows how bummed Mark was to not be going home for Christmas this year, and how much he wished he could see Jack over the holidays.

So Jack steels his courage, double checks the address, and gets into the elevator. 

Waiting to arrive on the fourth floor, Jack unlocks his phone for the thousandth time that minute. There are 12 new messages from Mark. Grinning like an idiot, he shoves the phone in his back pocket. 

When the elevator dings, he takes a deep breath, and marches up to Mark's door, and before he can chicken out, he knocks. 

There's a muffled 'wait a minute', then the unlocking of the door, and finally a shriek. 

Jack's worries melt away as Mark tackles him. 

"What are you doing here!" Mark queries, grinning like an idiot as he helps Jack back up. 

"Surprising you." Jack says with a shy grin as Mark invites him inside. 

"You must be Jack." A new voice says. Jack looks up to find a tall man in an orange shirt. He's grinning as he offers his hand. Jack accepts it with only a moment's hesitation. "I'm Wade. Mark was just complaining that you weren't responding to his texts." 

Mark grins unapologetically and invites Jack inside. 

"So when did you decide you were gonna come visit?" Mark asks, still beaming as he hands Jack a beer.

Jack takes a sip and then replies. "I bought my tickets last week."

Mark grins, but is distracted by the chime of the doorbell. 

Moments later the half-Korean returns with a man in glasses and a purple shirt. 

"Jack, this is Bob, Bob this is Jack."

Shaking Jack's hand, Bob grins. "Mark was just whining about you not responding to his texts."

Mark scoffs but Jack's grin grows. "Forgive me for not responding?"

Mark takes a moment to consider. "Yeah I guess so." And with a shrug he plops next to Jack on the couch. Then with a grin he gives Jack a quick peck on the cheek before launching into an animated story of his day.

***

"So you took the photo hanging in Mark's room."

Jack raises an eyebrow and turns to Mark. 

Mark stands and exits the room, returning moments later with a framed print. It's the picture of the father and the daughter. The one that Jack had given to Mark all those months ago. Jack accepts it, handling it carefully. 

“Yeah, I took this.” He hands it to Mark and hopes nobody notices how his hands are shaking, or how his heart is beating out of his chest. “You hung it up?”

Mark beams and goes to return it to it’s cherished place on the wall. “Of course, it’s one of my favorites.”

Jack’s cheeks tint pink. It’s such a simple gesture, such a small thing, and yet it means so much to Jack. Smiling to himself, he watches as Mark sits down again. 

He’s glad he took this chance. 

***

Bob and Wade have left, and Mark is insistent that they go for a walk. 

“Your friends seem nice.” Jack remarks, wrapping his scarf around his neck for warmth.   
Mark smiles and pulls on a hat. “Yeah. They liked you. I could tell.”

Jack looks up. “You think so?”

“Totally.”

Jack bends down to tie his boots. Both because they’re loose, and because he’s smiling like an idiot and he wants to keep some of his dignity. 

When he straightens, Mark is watching him. 

“Ready to go?” He chirps, grabbing his key from the counter. 

“Yeah.” Jack says with a smile, walking into the hallway and waiting for Mark. The other man locks the door and then joins Jack, grabbing his hand as they go down the stairs. 

They talk, catching up on what little new information there is since their last interaction as they walk out the door. 

It’s cold, and Mark says so. 

“You’re the one who wanted to go on this walk.” Jack grumbles, not really upset and trusting Mark knows that. 

“I’m not complaining. Just stating the facts.” Mark replies, leading Jack down the sidewalk. “I mean, if it’s going to be this damn cold, can’t it at least snow? I mean, is a green Christmas really necessary?”

Jack laughs and looks at the sky, then back at Mark. “So where are we going?”

“Stop asking questions, it’s a surprise.”

Jack grumbles under his breath and Mark laughs, the sound making Jack feel warm all over. 

Abruptly Mark stops. “Wait.”

“Waiting for orders sergeant.” Jack says with a smirk, giving a mock salute. 

“Well I was going to offer you breakfast at Stella’s, but if you wanna keep up the sass you can wait outside.”

Jack snorts. “Breakfast for dinner works for me.”

“That’s what I thought.” 

And with that, Mark is chattering away, making motions with his hands, and almost walking into several innocent civilians. 

Jack can’t help but laugh out loud. 

***

Miraculously, they make it to Stella’s without an injury. 

And it really is a miracle because Mark almost walked into a car. 

“God, do Wade and Bob babysit you all the time? I can’t see any other way that you’d still be alive.”

Mark laughs and grabs them a booth. “I usually pay better attention, but you’re a distraction.” 

Jack sits across from him and leans on the table. “Somehow, I’m not all that sorry.”

***

Their meal is finished, and the cheque paid. (They split it. A student’s salary doesn’t allow for chivalry and romantic gestures.) The two stroll down the streets, still holding hands. 

“Please tell me you got a good deal on the plane ticket.” 

Jack smiles. “I wouldn’t know, it was a Christmas present from Cassidy and James. They say hello, by the way.” 

It’s true, Cassidy and James had bought him a plane ticket, and although Jack was baffled by their generosity, and reluctant to accept it, the twins had threatened to go visit Mark themselves, sans Jack. 

“Oh wow, that was so nice of them. Remind me to say thank you.” Mark is grinning and Jack can’t help but smile back. 

“God I missed you.” He murmurs, his unblinking gaze focused on Mark. 

The statement surprises Mark for a moment, but he recovers and smiles at Jack in return. “I miss you too.” Then Mark looks nervous. “So hey, don’t feel pressured or anything, but…” Mark trails off. 

“But?” Jack queries, his eyebrow cocked. 

“Not in public Jack.” 

“You’re changing the subject.” Jack reminds him. 

“Something you know a bit about, eh?”

“Mark.”

“Sorry, sorry. Anyway, as I was saying, I graduate in May, and I was thinking of seeing what jobs there were in New York anyway, so I was wondering if you would mind if I crashed at your place for a week while I looked at apartments near yours.”

“The only problem I have with that is how shitty the apartments near mine are.”

Mark grins. “The one’s around here aren’t much either.”

“So, just to be clear, you’re asking me to come visit, and then live nearby after you graduate.”

Mark looks nervous. “Well, yeah, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, I know we haven’t been toge-”

“Why don’t you just move in.” Jack says, interrupting Mark mid-ramble.

Mark freezes. “Are you sure?”

“Mark, we’ve already lived together for three months.” Jack points out. 

“Oh yeah. I mean, if you’re okay with it, I’d love to.” 

“As long as you bring your bed with you.”

Mark grins. “Deal.”

***

“Ow, fuck Mark. Are you even paying attention?” Jack says, clutching his injured shin as Mark struggles to keep his hands over Jack’s eyes. 

“Sorry, sorry it’s darker and this is far more difficult than I had originally anticipated.” Mark helps Jack to straighten up, and the two continue walking for a few more yards. “Okay, we’re here.” Mark removes his hands.

Jack opens his eyes, revealing a small playground and park. He looks around. “Remy’s nowhere around is she?” 

Mark rolls his eyes. “No, and you know that wasn’t my fault.”

“I’m only teasing.” Jack murmurs, turning to face Mark.

Mark is about to respond, but he is distracted as something cold touches his nose. The two look up to see dozens of little white flakes falling from the sky. Mark looks elated. 

Mark exhales in shock. “Oh my god snow.” And within seconds he’s grinning. “Jack there’s snow! You brought the snow! We-”

Mark doesn’t get to finish his sentence, for soon Jack’s lips are pressed against his own, and all thoughts of snow are completely wiped from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of the Prequel will be posted at midnight on New Year's Eve, so stay tuned if you're interested to read about Jack's life after the incident, until he meets Mark. 
> 
> Ahhh this is so crazy, thank you guys so much. Seriously.


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